























































































































































































































































“A LO'HA!” 










King and Coco Palm, Honolulu 






































n 


“A L OH A! 


A HAWAIIAN SALUTATION. 


BY 

GEORGE LEONARD CHANEY. 





r '■'sjij 

•oP YRltiH 


i No..ALULA:, 




BOSTON: ' ! 'l 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
1880. 


1879 . 


7 / 


*■*£? 




Copyright , 1879, 

By George L. Chaney. 


university press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 


TO 

&\je honorable anti ite. barter, 

WITHOUT WHOSE KIND PERSUASION MY VISIT TO THE HAWAIIAN 
ISLANDS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN MADE, 

AND WHOSE GRACIOUS ENTERTAINMENT AND GUIDANCE WHILE 
I WAS THERE, DID SO MUCH TO MAKE THE MEMORY 
OF THAT VISIT A LASTING PLEASURE, 


THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 





PREFACE. 


I 


“ Aloha ” means “ Love to you! ” It is the Ha¬ 
waiian salutation and farewell. It expresses both the 
joy of friends who meet, and the sorrow of those who 
part. It is the commonest and sweetest word in the 
Hawaiian tongue. A book of grateful recollections 
of a winter’s residence in the Hawaiian Islands is for¬ 
tunate in finding for its title a name so gracious, so 
suited to its topic, and so truly at one with the 
author’s motive in writing it. The visit which these 
pages will describe was too good to be selfishly en¬ 
joyed. The only reparation a man can make for not 
taking his fellow-men with him, when he goes to 
Hawaii, is to tell them about it when he gets home. 
In this book the author hopes to make some amends 
to his less fortunate fellows. They must not expect 
to find here a history of the Islands, — Jarves and Ellis 
have written that as well as anybody is likely to do 
it; nor yet a full account of the Missions with which 
these islands are associated,—Bingham and Anderson 



V1U 


PREFACE. 


have told that story; nor yet a study of the race, 
language, or traditions of Hawaii,—what Ellis and 
Jarves have left untold of these, Fornander is supplying 
in his “ Polynesian Race.” Neither must the reader 
look for a scientific treatment of the natural history 
of the Islands, with full descriptions of its fauna and 
flora, — Mann and Dole and Brigham, in the publica^ 
tions of the Boston Natural History Society, the 
American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and the 
Essex Institute, have given the results of their explo¬ 
ration and study on these subjects; nor can I claim 
that this is a guide-book. Why do again what has 
been done so well already by Mr. H. L. Whitney, of 
Honolulu, whose handy little pamphlet will tell all 
that the traveller needs to know? Miss I. L. Bird 
has written a charming book of travel in the Hawaiian 
Archipelago. If I can give my readers half the pleas¬ 
ure she has given me, I shall be satisfied. Better 
still, if I can leave them wishing that they too could 
go to Hawaii. Why not ? Sixteen days of journey¬ 
ing from Boston or New York will take you there. 

There is still another reason for publishing these 
notes and recollections. I owe a debt of gratitude to 
Hawaii, which the hurried thanks at the hour of part¬ 
ing and scanty messages since my return to America 
cannot pay. Go you, my little book, and tell the 


PREFACE. 


IX 


friendliest and kindest people in the world how well 
I remember their least act or word of courtesy and 
care ! Repeat, in their own musical tongue, their 
own generous salutation; and, although they read no 
more than your title, that shall tell them of my life¬ 
long gratitude and love. 


Monoosnock Farm, 

Leominster, Mass. 


GEORGE L. CHANEY. 








CONTENTS. 


Page 

At Sea. 1 

Honolulu . 9 

Waikiki.25 

A Voyage with the Prince.49 

Hilo Homes.66 

Kilauea.84 

“ On the Upper Veranda ”.101 

Cocoa-nut Island.121 

Puna and Onomea.134 

A Missionary Chapter.151 

Wailuku.168 

“Kaawaloa” .189 

Kona — on the Heights.201 

IIualalai. 213 

Iao. 235 

Makawao and Haleakala.249 

Honolulu again.294 

Around Oahu.282 

















































































































ALOHA!” 


AT SEA. 



MAMMA, we have come to the surface of 


the earth! ” This exclamation of our four- 
year-old boy, as we sighted Oahu peering above the 
ocean horizon and looming through its morning mists, 
exactly expressed our feelings, when, after eight days 
upon the Pacific, we reached the Hawaiian Islands. 
There was a world of innocent and unconscious dis¬ 
paragement of the voyage in the boy’s ecstatic greet¬ 
ing of land, to which we heartily responded. Not 
that it had been unusually disagreeable. On the con¬ 
trary, as voyages go, the trip had been rather easy and 
commodating. The “ Granada ” was a good ship, 
with the best of officers and crew. If she was a trifle 
crank, that was due to her light lading. If she did roll 
more than was consistent with the appearance of per¬ 
fect sobriety, the blame of that, we were assured, must 
be divided between the lading and the ocean. Our 
course kept us directly in the trough of the sea, and any¬ 
body familiar with the long swell of the Pacific may 



l 



2 


“ ALOHA!” 


know what that position involves. However, by keep¬ 
ing the earthen vessel in which we have our treasure 
in this world as lightly laden as the ship, and yielding 
meekly to the humor of the ocean, rolling all night 
long from side to side of our berths like unsteady 
barrels, and in the daytime practising on deck until 
our sea-legs were fairly on, we managed to endure 
the voyage. Indeed, we became so habitually un¬ 
steady in our motions, that the land itself, for some 
days after our voyage was over, seemed to reel under 
our feet. 

If misery likes company, we were not without 
congenial consolation. It awaited us at every turn 
on shipboard. Faces with that “ wrung-out-and-flung- 
away ” look peculiar to sea-sickness entreated the 
pity of a passing tear. I hardly know which is most 
depressing at such a time, — the helpless invalid or the 
robust salt. Among our fellow-passengers was a man 
who never was sea-sick in his life. His favorite boast 
was that he never missed a meal at sea. The privi¬ 
lege often carried its own punishment with it, as I 
afterwards learned, when I too could descend the 
cabin stairway and sit at meat with my tormentor 
opposite me. But it seemed no punishment to him, 
even when the flavor of machinery was at its height 
in all we ate. “ My only trouble,” he declared, “ is 
to keep the wolf well fed.” His poor wife meantime 
was famishing, without a wish for food, in her state- 


AT SEA. 


3 


room. Later in the voyage she appeared horizontally 
in the upper saloon, while her lupine consort rushed 
about the deck in unnecessary good health, or, seat¬ 
ing himself at the piano, played with a mercantile 
touch which denoted that he made his living by it, as 
he did. Query : Would not a perfectly healthy man 
be a perfect brute ? 

Two pretty little girls, with their father, occupied 
the room opposite to ours. They soon obtained the 
freedom of the ship, and led our young voyager into 
perilous explorations, fore and aft; now romping 
among the live-stock on the forward deck, and now 
peering over the stern, to watch the gulls or sight a 
shark foraging in the ship’s profitable wake. A sub- 
Englishman, i. e. a colonist from Sidney, sat opposite 
me at table, and found fault so constantly that we 
could almost have sworn the fare to be delicious, for 
the sake of differing from him. Other passengers 
from the Colonies impressed us more favorably. 

Friday, January 14, must have been a trying day 
at sea, for I find this entry in my diary : “ How tired 
I am of being banged about by doors, berths, and 
other inanimate things ! When a man hits you, it is 
possible to feel a proper resentment, even if you do 
not hit him back ; but there is no retaliating upon a 
door. The whole thing is ignominious. No wonder 
ships sometimes hug the shore. I would do it this 
moment, if I could. Where are we now ? The log 


4 


“ ALOHA!” 


answers : Lat. 27° 47 / 2L Long. 145° 16' W. Whole 
distance from San Francisco, 1,300 miles.” 

But we will not prolong the story of the voyage, 
lest the account of its inevitable disagreements should 
prove as forbidding to the reader as their experience 
was to the voyager. Only, in common honesty, we 
must qualify the popular impression that the Pacific 
is as smooth as a mill-pond, with the confession that 
it is quite capable of producing sea-sickness, notwith¬ 
standing its comparative freedom from great storms. 

But all this is over now. We have come to the 
surface of the earth at length. There is Koko Head, 
the first visible bit of Oahu, magnified by enveloping 
mists, glorified by dashes of sunshine, and growing 
every moment more beautiful as the lessening distance 
reveals its blending of brown lava tints with the vivid 
green of tropical vegetation. Every rod of the way 
becomes intensely interesting from this point onward 
till we enter the harbor of Honolulu. From seven 
o’clock until ten we are coasting along the island 
of Oahu, within a mile of the rare panorama which 
stretches along its southern shore. There is Diamond 
Head, with one foot on land and one in the sea, the 
daysman between them, a wonderful volcanic rem¬ 
nant, its fires long extinguished, and yet retaining in 
form and expression many a suggestion of its passion¬ 
ate youth. 

There is Waikiki, with its hovering palm-tops, its 


AT SEA. 


5 


silent cottages, its cluster of native-grass houses, all 
seen beyond the silvery edge of the breakers that rave 
upon its coral reef. Above and further inland, the 
great valleys of Palolo, Manoah, and Pauoa cover 
their retreat to the high mountains, with perpetual 
showers and impenetrable green. Now Punch-bowl 
shows its circular brim, with Tantalus looking eagerly 
down upon it, and the great range of mountains be¬ 
hind him mocking his thirst with their inexhaustible 
rain-clouds. At their feet sits Honolulu, a city in a 
grove. The piers at the water’s edge and a few busi¬ 
ness streets have thrown off their coats, as if for con¬ 
venience in working, but every other portion of the 
town is clothed “ in vernal green.” 

And now the harbor begins to fill with row-boats. 
Natives on every errand which curiosity or greed can 
invent, newsmen in pursuit of items for their rival 
papers, custom-house officials, private parties expect¬ 
ing friends, — each and all the varied interests which 
greet an ocean steamer on her arrival, board the 
“ Granada ” and bid her welcome. 

Meantime, the entire population seem to have as¬ 
sembled on the wharf. The gun is fired, to signal 
our arrival. Really this is something like a royal 
progress. The natives, with their wreaths of orange 
Him a, or yellow immortelles, or green maiU (Alyxia 
Olivoz-formis), or garden roses, and their bright chintz 
gowns, favor the illusion. Every thing and everybody 


6 


ALOHA ! ” 


look merry and festive. A chorus of talk and laugh¬ 
ter fills the air from the crowd upon the pier. In our 
eagerness to land, it seems to take longer to get the 
ship to the wharf than to sail from Koco Head to 
Honolulu. In the midst of this process a furious 
shower of rain bursts upon the people. Those in car¬ 
riages are drenched. The common crowd find shelter 
under the immense freight-shed. There, in one deli¬ 
cious heap, oranges, bananas, sugar, and flower-crowned 
Hawaiians await the passing of the cloud. 

The formalities of custom-house inspection, includ¬ 
ing a permit from an officer for leave to take our 
trunks, and a contribution from us of two dollars 
towards the support of the Queen’s Hospital, were 
soon over, and we were ashore and with our friends. 
Happily, we had friends in Honolulu who were ex¬ 
pecting us, and whose kindred homes would defend 
us from all sense of loss if our thoughts should go 
roving to our New England dwellings. But no 
stranger need feel lonely in Honolulu. There is a 
look of friendliness in every face he meets, and with 
a single letter of introduction to one of these hospi¬ 
table people he can enjoy all the society he desires. 
But without this, he need not feel lost. With money 
in his purse, he can go to the Hawaiian Hotel, the 
most beautiful government edifice in the town, and 
live in comfort for two or three dollars per day. The 
Seamen’s Home offers a tidy though plain shelter for 


AT SEA. 


/ 

travellers of small means. All the world over, one 
must pay for what one gets. There is no country 
where living is cheap, unless it is relatively poor. 
Oahu is no exception to the rule. If you live more 
cheaply there than elsewhere, it must be because you 
live more simply. The only necessaries of life which 
are really cheap in Honolulu are rain, sunshine, and 
fresh air. And where else in the world will one find 
these great staples of existence in such abundance and 
purity ? Let no man be frightened by stories of trop¬ 
ical heat. In the winter season, when we were there, 
every hour of sunshine had its five minutes’ bath of 
rain; and if this had failed, the trade-wind, steadily 
blowing the cooling breath of the northeast Pacific, 
would have relieved the air of all excess of heat. But 
all this we have yet to learn from our three months’ 
visit. As yet, we have scarcely landed. To our in¬ 
experienced eyes, these frequent showers seem to 
throw a damper upon the enjoyment of travel. We 
see our trunks in an open wagon, encountering the 
hazards of a mile or more of transportation towards 
the mountains of rain which crumble into incessant 
avalanches of water, and we wonder how they will 
survive the passage to our friends’ house. The per¬ 
fect sang-froid with which our friends took their part 
of the showers, while it relieved us of all apprehension 
lest they were sugar or salt, — those leading products 
of Oahu, — left us uncertain whether they were flesh 


8 


“ ALOHA!” 


and blood. But notwithstanding these sudden dashes 
of rain, the ride through the tidy town, with its mod¬ 
est shops, its shaded cottages, its brilliant gardens 
and lively people, was most captivating. We rode up 
Nuuanu Avenue to our friends’ house. Oh, the rest 
and blessedness of that end of our long trip across a 
continent and an ocean! The novelty and rarity of 
every thing ! I see them now as freshly as if I were 
still in Honolulu, — the bank of ferns, beneath the 
shade of the mango and monkey-pod ; the brook rush¬ 
ing under the graceful archway; the stately king- 
palms on its further bank; the green pastures of 
manienie grass, with here and there a native house; 
the open veranda, with its beguiling lounges and 
easy-chairs; the open doors, windows, hall, hearts, 
hands, — every thing open and free as the day ! Ah, 
where else in the wide world is there such rest as in 
a good home in the Hawaiian Islands ? And when, 
after shaking the wrinkles and brine of the sea out of 
ourselves and our clothing, we sat down in the bright 
dining-room, and ate of the fruits of the land and 
sipped the comfort of tea that w r as tea, and not 
“ water bewitched,” a la “ Granada,” there stole such 
a sense of contentment over us as we had not felt for 
many a day, if ever before. 


HONOLULU. 


9 


HONOLULU. 

HTHE trade-wind and abundance of water go so 
far to relieve the heat of these islands, that all 
the days are far more comfortable than the average 
weather in a New England summer. We experienced 
no such heat there as greeted our visit to the Cen¬ 
tennial at Philadelphia, the following July; and when, 
on our return to Massachusetts, we were asked, one 
scorching day in August, why we went to the 
Hawaiian Islands, we answered, with more seriousness 
than our untravelled readers will give us credit for, 
“ to get cool.” All day long the merry wind blows 
freshly among the branches of the ample shade-trees 
of Honolulu. As I lie in the bamboo-lounge on my 
friend’s piazza, I am obliged to anchor my newspaper 
with a book, when I lay it down, dr the wind will 
whisk it away among the mango-trees. I cannot 
liken this refreshing breeze to the fanning of an im¬ 
mense punka suspended above the island, and kept in 
motion by invisible servitors. The rush of air is too 
continuous to be compared with fanning. There are 
none of those momentary but regularly recurring lulls 
which give to the exercise of the fan its invariable dis- 



10 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


appointment. A full river of wind flows over you, in 
unbroken current, and you realize at length what it is 
to be as happy as “ a clam at high water.” Or if you 
prefer the water itself, and would fain revel in that 
element, you have only to seek the bath-room, an 
essential part of every well-furnished house in this 
country, and there you will find, not an empty trough 
built in doleful semblance of your last resting-place, 
but more likely a deep tank or capacious tub, brim¬ 
ming over with cool, pure water, always ready and 
waiting for your use. The water from some neigh¬ 
boring brook is made to run in this free fashion 
through your bath-room, and a bath in the house has 
all the freshness of a dip in the brook. Fancy the 
recreation with which we rose from this domestic 
Eunok,—river of the right mind,—and took our place 
again, after the dire passage of the seas, among the 
inhabitants of this blessed island. And they, nowise 
unwilling to admit us to their company, came to greet 
us day by day, and wish us a happy sojourn among 
them. Every evening gathered an impromptu party. 
Scarcely was the late dinner over, and our family at 
leisure, in parlor or on piazza, before the sound of - 
carriage-wheels on the driveway would herald the 
coming guests, and each new arrival would but pre¬ 
pare the way for a successor. The universal interest 
which a visiting stranger excites is not due in the 
least to his rarity or probable superiority in any re- 


HONOLULU. 


11 


spect to the usual society of the city. Visitors are 
far too common, and the society* is far too varied and 
intelligent for such effects. No, it is the genuine in¬ 
stinct of hospitality, a grace which was native to these 
islands before the missionaries came here. Every 
Hawaiian shares it. 

The civility and kindliness common to New Eng¬ 
land village life have only added new charms and 
powers to themselves by coming all the way to 
Hawaii. It is a curious and pleasant thing to see 
how many of the best characteristics of the Anglo- 
American race have been transplanted and domesti¬ 
cated in this far-away kingdom. If the good old type 
should die out of New England, I believe that it 
would be found still surviving in the descendants of the 
best settlers of the Hawaiian Islands. Nearly every 
resident of American extraction, whether born in the 
Islands or not, looks to our country as to his native 
land, and the “ States, 5 ’ as they are commonly called, 
are always spoken of as “ home.” So prevalent is this 
way of speaking, that genuine Hawaiians themselves 
sometimes fall into their white brothers’ habit, and 
speak of coming to the States as “ going home.” 
And yet it would be making too much of the pre¬ 
dominating New England influence in Hawaiian 
civilization, to, ignore other, co-operating agencies. 
Especially unfair would it be to the society of Honolulu 
to omit from its description the various nationalities 


12 


ALOHA ! ” 


represented there. It is this variety which gives to 
such society its breadth of view and catholicity of tem¬ 
per, its numerous topics in conversation and its genuine 
cosmopolitan complexion. The representatives of all 
civilized nations live together in this little kingdom, and 
their attachment, each to his own country, intensified 
by absence and distance, makes the home affairs of every 
nation subjects of eager comparison and discussion in 
. intelligent circles. We found ourselves in one evening 
thus early in our visit receiving calls from the United 
States Minister, the Austrian Consul, Mr. Afong, a 
wealthy and intelligent Chinese merchant, and a succes¬ 
sion of neighborly American-Hawaiians besides. Intel¬ 
ligent and kindly as all of these were, none interested 
us more, or proved more winning in his address and 
manners, than the neighbor from China. In looks he 
very much resembled that rare Christian gentleman, the 
late Secretary of the American Unitarian Association, 
Rev. Charles Lowe. The same beaming face and 
modest grace of manner, the friendly yet unobtrusive 
courtesy which needs both inheritance and culture to 
bring it to this fine condition, and a ready intelligence, 
which, while it apprehended your thought before it 
was fully expressed, never interrupted your speech 
with unnecessary assistance! I could almost have 
persuaded myself that our dear friend had returned 
to earth in this admirable heathen, to show how like 
the two might be,—a good Chinaman and a good 


HONOLULU. 


13 


Christian. In the obscure light of the retired corner 
of the room in which he instinctively chose his seat, 
the inseparable queue, which still held him to his 
fatherland, hardly showed as it encircled his head 
like a Hawaiian lei, or wreath; and his speech, which 
was not frequent, dropped from his lips with the care¬ 
ful exactness of Chinese workmanship. While I am 

speaking of Mr. A-, I may say that these Islands 

are regarded as the very Paradise of the Chinese. In 
the main, they are kindly treated here, although a very 
natural jealousy has arisen between them and the 
native Hawaiians. The former are a persistent race ; 
the latter, evanescent. Moreover, the Chinese have 
the very qualities which the Hawaiians most lack. 
Industry, providence, economy, subtlety, all the 
money-making and money-saving virtues, are with 
the former. Idleness, carelessness, generosity, sim¬ 
plicity, all the money-losing qualities, are with the 
latter. It is the old story of Jacob and Esau over 
again. Worse still, this Chinese Jacob carries off the 
daughters as well as the cattle of his host. It is not 
uncommon for Hawaiian women to marry Chinese 
husbands, and in a country where women are largely 
in the minority, this is no slight grievance to the 
men. This very gentleman whom we are receiving in 
our friend’s parlor has a Hawaiian wife and eleven 

t 

children. They live in the most elegant house on 
Nuuanu Avenue ; and when you call there, as we did, 



14 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


on Chinese New Year’s, you will find yourself 
received with the same simple yet dignified courtesy 
which charmed you in the host himself when you 
first met him. This Chinese New Year’s is a 
festival to be celebrated with something more than 
a passing reference. It occurs on the 2Gth of Jan¬ 
uary, the beginning of the Chinese year. 

Previous to this day, every honest Chinaman pays 
all his debts. For fear that Western prejudice may 
deem this a safe and not necessarily large statement, 
I will say, “ every Chinaman who values his reputa¬ 
tion” pays his debts before the New Year begins. 
And this reminds me of a story told by the Count 
Kleczkowski, in the Introduction to his work on 
the Chinese Alphabet and Language, which is worthy 
of wider circulation than it is likely to receive in its 
place in that learned work. “ The vice-roi Ye had 
issued an edict condemning to death every native 
convicted of having the least intercourse with the 
barbarians, e. g. English, French, and other Europeans. 
The merchants of these nationalities hastened to 
close their counting-houses in Canton. One night a 
Swiss merchant made his preparations to depart. 
All at once he saw enter his store one of his Chinese 
customers, who, assisted by coolies, brought him 
some thousands of piasters in ingots of silver, which 
he owed him. When the European expressed surprise 
at such temerity, “ I did not wish,” replied the 


HONOLULU. 


15 


Chinaman, “that any one should deem me capable 
of taking advantage of unfortunate circumstances not 
to pay my debts.” 

On New Year’s day, then, the entire Chinese peo¬ 
ple go off, like one of their rockets, into explosive 
merriment and display. Ah Me and Ah Well, our 
melancholy cook and waiter, shook the sigh out of 
themselves and went off celebrating like the rest. 
In mingled curiosity and greed we followed them, and 
with some American gentlemen made the rounds of 
several prominent Chinese merchants’ stores. They 
received in rooms fitted up for the purpose in the rear 
of their usual places of business. Tables were spread 
with cold meats, bread, a great variety of dried fruits, 
preserves, and candy, and promiscuous beverages of 
flavor unknown to us, because untasted. It was a 
free lunch, with no expectation on the part of the 
entertainers of a costly drink to follow. The smiling 
reception which greeted us at every store witnessed 
the sincerity of their welcome. One ambitious Celes¬ 
tial, emulous of admiration at any cost, entertained 
in Buffum’s Hall. The king himself was expected 
to honor the feast this Chinaman had prepared. 

Curious to see the repast which would be deemed 
worthy of royalty itself, we mounted the stairway, and 
entered the grand banqueting hall. Beaming and 
bounteous Hawaiians blended the brown sugar of their 
smiles with the tea-like astringency of the somewhat 


16 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


thin and puckered Chinese physiognomy. It was a 
grateful combination. The feast was not at its height 
when we arrived; on the contrary, there was a “ too 
muchee bye-and-bye,” as the Chinaman said of his 
watch when it lost time, in the appearance of the 
festival when we were there. Every thing and every¬ 
body were waiting for the coming of the king. A 
long table, raised only a few inches from the floor, 
was spread with every imaginable Hawaiian delicacy, 
from squid and sea-weed to the Princess Ruth’s fa¬ 
vorite bow-wow. Poi, in polished koa calabashes, 
offered a sauce of equal efficacy to the goose and 
gander who might eat the sour paste; and scattered 
among these unctuous viands were the withered 
sweets in which the Chinaman delights his festive 
soul. 

Take care, 0 king, that the lean kine do not eat up 
the fat ones; that these shrivelled fruits and fishes 
of China do not dispossess your land of its poi and 
squid ! The day is coming — has already come — 
when your own people cannot do all that needs doing 
in the development of your kingdoms natural re¬ 
sources and the accomplishment of its destiny as a 
great depot of the world’s commerce, when its tide, 
which now flows westward from the prolific shores 
of China and Japan, shall turn eastward, and reach 
Europe by way of America. Are these thoughts too 
grave for the day ? Let us move on, then: you to 


HONOLULU. 


17 


your grand banquet, and I to the last call of the day, 

a call of real respect upon the gentlemanly A-. 

His wife is ill and cannot receive us, but there is 
nothing lacking in the simple politeness of the eldest 
daughter; and, indeed, the house itself, with its ele¬ 
gant and unique furnishing and its beautiful surround¬ 
ings, would have been entertaining enough. That 
evening I attended a meeting at the Bethel, which 
opened a new door of possible achievement for this 
immemorial race. It was a union meeting of Chinese 
and Americans. Sit Moon, a Chinese colporteur em¬ 
ployed by the Young Men’s Christian Association, 
addressed his countrymen, of whom about twenty 
were present. He prayed with them in their own 
tongue. He then led them in singing from large 
printed posters, containing, in Chinese characters, the 
hymns, “ There is a happy home,” “ Just as I am,” 
and “ Rock of Ages.” It was a curious sensation to 
hear these familiar tunes with such unfamiliar words ; 
but the novelty was less impressive than the illustra¬ 
tion it gave of the unifying power and destiny of 
Christianity. The very antipodes of the earth, Amer¬ 
icans and Chinese, — people as antipodal in race char¬ 
acteristics as in geographical position, — were made 
one in the worship of this Christian Bethel. I know 
not what a musical ear, listening critically to the 
singing, might have heard; something curious in har¬ 
mony, no doubt; but the commingled singing of one 



18 


“aloha!” 


hymn, partly in Chinese and partly in English, was, to 
the spiritual ear, prophetic of the day when all na¬ 
tions shall flow together to the knowledge of the 
Lord. No doubt or question of the possibility of con¬ 
verting the Chinese to Christianity deters these de¬ 
scendants of missionaries from their pious attempts ; 
and truly they are a people eminently worthy of the 
best we can give them. 

Twenty centennials ago, they placed at the head of 
their political constitution that requirement which is 
our most difficult and most needed reform to-day; viz., 
that “ merit only, established by public examinations, 
gives the right to every public office.” For more 
than nine centuries, says the Count Kleczkowski in his 
Introduction to the Study of the Chinese Language, 
they have kept the institutions which govern them 
almost intact. “ A monarchy,” he calls their govern¬ 
ment, “ based on laws, ideas, and customs more demo¬ 
cratic than among any other people. In England 
itself, the towns and boroughs do not enjoy more 
rights and privileges than those of the country of 
Hann. The Board of Censors at Peking can pub¬ 
licly reprimand all public officers, even the sovereign 
himself; and they do it. Needless,” he continues, “ to 
speak of their language, the hearthstone of civiliza¬ 
tion for so many human beings; of their literature, 
whose riches are little comprehended here; of their 
history, where one finds noted down in perfect order 


HONOLULU. 


19 


and with surprising clearness the least acts of all 
their sovereigns, statesmen, great captains, sages, 
scholars, and even the deeds of celebrated women 
who have made China illustrious, ever since about 
the time of Confucius ; that is to say, for about 
twenty-four hundred years. Nor ought we to pass in 
silence the admirable industries of this people, the 
patience and perseverance of Chinese workmen, their 
sobriety, their frugality, their respect for authority, 
their love of order and peace, and, above all, their 
contentment in failure or in success, their cheerful¬ 
ness under hard labor ! And, finally, their business 
talent surpasses even that of the Anglo-Saxon.” Four 
hundred millions of people, one-third of the world’s 
inhabitants, sensible, frugal, industrious, capable, per¬ 
sistent in race and government, and yet self-indul¬ 
gent, effeminate, conservative alike of good and bad, 
proud, exclusive, and intolerant, — what a mass of 
humanity worth saving! what a mountain of reme¬ 
diable evil they present! 

Are we giving too much thought to the intrusive 
Chinese question in these remembrances of social life 
in Honolulu? No more than the omnipresence of 
the Chinaman himself compels. He is the main 
dependence of the plantation ; the favorite cook ; the 
diligent trader ; the successful gardener; the coming 
man, it may be, in these mid-Pacific isles. 

“ What do you say,” asks my host, a day or two 


20 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


after our arrival and domestication in his hospitable 
home, “ to a horseback excursion to-morrow up 
Kalihi ? ” Kalihi is a wonderful valley running from 
the sea to the very heart of the great range of moun¬ 
tains which forms the eastern wall of Oahu. It is 
one of many such valleys or gorges, and hardly dis¬ 
tinguishable from the rest by any excess of beauty. 
Where all are so lovely, it would be unfair to single 
out Kalihi for celebration. 

We welcome the proposal to explore the valley. 
Those great green clefts in the mountain wall behind 
Honolulu had tempted us from our first sight of them 
from the sea, and now we should learn from close in¬ 
spection what trees combined to weave their ever- 
vernal green. The mystery of their native reserve was 
increased in this case by the story our friend told us 
of a white man who lived far up Kalihi, in self- 
imposed exile. Happily he was on pleasant terms 
with our host, and enjoyed his visits. Under cover 
of his favor, therefore, we might all go and be assured 
of a welcome. Our party, numbering five, — three 
ladies, my host, and myself, — started in gay defiance of 
the weather, which, at this season, can safely be relied 
upon to prove sunshiny and rainy^very hour of the 
day. We were mounted on horses of the usual Ha¬ 
waiian type, naturally lazy, but so accustomed to whip 
and spur that they did not dare to follow their incli¬ 
nation. At a breakneck gallop they went clattering 


HONOLULU. 


21 


through the town and out on the turnpike road to 
Kalihi. The traveller — especially the lady rider — 
should bring her own saddle with her. All the en¬ 
joyable locomotion here is on horseback, with the 
slight exception of the city streets and one road 
around Oahu. The chances of finding a side-saddle 
here which will suit your ladyship are not of the best; 
especially as all the women who are to the manor 
born ride in the same way as the men, sitting astride 
their horses. Not only Hawaiians, but very often 
those of gentler race, prefer to ride in this fashion; 
and in taking long journeys it is a very common prac¬ 
tice, as it is found to be less fatiguing than the one¬ 
sided arrangement of tamed countries. 

What a deepening delight it was when, having left 
the city and the beaten road and crossed the opening 
uplands, we plunged into the valley itself, and now 
with a dash through the guava-bushes or the tall 
grass interwoven with ferns, now between cliffs 
where the candle-nut trees clung like goats or went 
bounding past us as we shot by them on our horses, 
now fording a stream, now scampering over a hillock, 
now hugged so closely by crowding foresbtrees that 
we seemed in danger of being swept from our horses, 
now reaching a brief interval of clearing and speed¬ 
ing our beasts to the woods again, on we went, the 
valley growing thicker in foliage, darker and more 
damp as we went on, and at last, when the only pos- 


22 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


sible remaining pathway seemed to run up a tree, we 
found ourselves close upon the Morris hermitage ! 
Clearly our exile would prove no anchorite, for his 
dwelling was luxurious in vegetation. All the profit¬ 
able fruits of the land were growing in abundance 
around him. Oranges hung like starry worlds in the 
leafy firmament above us. Bananas in every stage 
of greenness hung from their upright staves, sur¬ 
rounded by waving pennons of prodigious leaves. 
Limes and loquots filled the intervals of the orchard, 
and all around were other tropical trees whose fruit 
was not yet in its season. In the midst of this un¬ 
spoiled Eden, contented to be alone and so secure 
from falling, the recluse and his wife (for he was 
married) passed their uneventful days. No serpent 
invaded their garden with plausible tongue, for there 
is not a snake to be found in all the Hawaiian king- 
dom. Here the man and wife lived alone, in a snug 
cottage by the side of a spring of never-failing water, 
and the trees fed them. At the departure of the 
steamer from Honolulu, Mr. Morris would go down 
to ship his fruit for the States, and attend to the 
little shopping his narrow household required. Some¬ 
times the sale of his fruit returned him a profit, but 
very often it was lost on the passage. His business 
would not have proved a paying one if he had lived 
as men live in towns and cities. But he had chosen 
the better way of becoming rich, — of having few 


HONOLULU. 


23 


wants; and in this ample poverty he passed his peace¬ 
ful days. As we sat on his little veranda, sipping 
limeade, eating oranges and loquots, and listening 
to the story of his life, or so much of it as he chose 
to reveal, the temptation to voluntary banishment 
from the door-bell of civilization and the visiting-card 
of society might have proved too strong for our 
social and professional virtues, but for the evident 
narrowness of the hermit’s accommodations and the 
warning of the - deepening shade that the evening 
was coming on. Mounting our horses, we rushed 
away from the dangerous seclusion, and were soon 
“ homeward bound,” with some of the lively accom¬ 
paniments of that stirring hymn about us. A pelting 
rain fell upon us, but its Avaters were so mild, and the 
ensuing sunshine so genial, and the breeze of horse¬ 
back riding so drying, that when we reached home 
Ave Avere as Avhole and unharmed as Avhen Ave started. 
That is one of the peculiarities of this climate. In 
the Avinter season there are daily, almost hourly, rains, 
especially as you near the mountains, and yet nobody 
minds them. Umbrellas are seldom used by well 
people. The recovery from one of these sprinklings 
is as rapid as the attack. The people of Honolulu 
take the frequent shower Avhich comes doAvn Nuuanu 
Avenue from the clouds among the hills A T ery much 
as Americans regard a Avatering-machine in their city 
streets. It lays the dust and cools the air. The rain 


24 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


which pattered along the forest path with us as we 
left Kalihi seemed rather a companion of our frolic 
than a marplot. The garments of civilization, to be 
sure, are not improved by the process. Our ladies’ 
veils clinging to their hats give a shrivelled morning- 
glory effect to their head attire. But not so the 
native woman who rides before us. Her single but 
abundant garment of black material is rather im¬ 
proved in lustre by the rain. Her plush hat glistens 
like a raven’s breast, and the lei of yellow everlasting 
around it shines like a ring of gold. 

The garland of roses and maile hung over her 
shoulders freshens and blooms anew at the touch of 
the shower. She is the handsomest Hawaiian we 
have yet seen, and as she flashes up the hill before us 
on a fine horse, which she rides to perfection, and, 
reaching the crest, is seen for a moment against the 
bright light of the returning sun, she seems the em¬ 
bodiment of her people, free, bounteous, passionate, 
fearless, and — vanishing. 



WAIKIKI. 


25 


WAIKIKI. 


W AIKIKI! There is something in the very 


vv 


name which smacks of the sea. Actually 


there is a slight taste of salt in my mouth whenever 
I speak the word. And either my experience of the 
place has infused its significance into these sparkling 
syllables, so that they sound to me like the gentle 
play of the water on the beach, or there is some 
genuine correspondence between the place and its 
native name. It is the seaside resort of Honolulu, 
about five miles from the city. We saw it first from 
the deck of the steamship “Granada” on the day of 
our arrival. A string of cottages and grass houses, 
looking at that distance no larger than shells strewn 


along the beach, and above them what seemed a 
flock of musing heron, but was in reality a grove of 
palms, — this was our earliest impression of Waikiki. 
We had yearned for it from that moment, notwith¬ 
standing the hospitable entertainment and social 
charm of Honolulu. There seemed a promise of rest 
in its motionless life, and a chance of self-recovery in 
its self-forgetful solitude. “ Let us go to Waikiki,” 
I said, when my friend invited me to take an after- 


26 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


noon drive, and left the direction to me. And we 
went, following Beretania Street till it took us into 
the open marshes, only relieved here and there by 
lands redeemed and regained for Eden by the lineal 
descendants of the man and woman who originally 
lost it. These loyal sons of Adam had planted 
algaroba trees and coco palms, and carpeted the 
bare earth with soft rugs of manienie grass. One 
thrifty settlement had been named the “ Sunny 
South,” and bore its name proudly in a blue arch 
over the gateway. It was so christened by its pro¬ 
prietor in the time of the great rebellion in the 
United States, and served to advertise in a showy 
way his Southern sympathies. But we admire it at 
this date as a symbol of what the sunny South is 
destined to become, now that it is redeemed from 
the low level of a civilization based on slavery. We 
pass a young cocoa-nut grove, said to contain seven 
thousand trees, planted by its foresighted owner in 
the belief that twenty years hence, at a dollar a tree, 
it will give his heir seven thousand dollars a year. 
With such examples of the capacity of the land, what 
a pity it seems to find one’s self soon surrounded by 
wretched marshes, disfigured—if their coarse face can 
be made uglier than the w r eeds and wild grasses 
make it — with muddy ponds of green and stagnant 
waters. The hard road goes bravely through and 
over this country, and soon we reach the giant palms 


WAIKIKI. 


27 


and their covey of nestling cottages. Most of the 
houses are closed at this season, but in this honest 
neighborhood there is no need of locks and bars. 
We look into and over the houses almost as easily as 
if their owners were there showing us about the prem¬ 
ises. They were plain low buildings, looking seaward 
from under the shade of thick branching hail trees. 
We turned around in several of them, but somehow 
did not feel that instinctive affection for them which 
tells a man when he has found his home. Evidently 
ours was not there. The prospect of keeping house 
in that odd corner of creation, with native servants 
chuckling unintelligent assent to our commands, or 
Chinese waiters who might as well be dumb, for all 
we could comprehend of their dialect, w r as not in¬ 
viting. We turned sorrowfully away, with the sad 
refrain of Watts’s restless hymn in our minds : — 

“ ’Tis vain the ocean’s depths to sound, 

Or pierce to either pole.” 

But we had not seen the whole of Waikiki. Fur¬ 
ther along-shore, where the native fishing-canoes are 
hauled up on the beach, their long black hulks 
covered but not veiled by coarse-meshcd nets, the 
coco palms grow taller and more numerous, and a 
comfortable native settlement encamps. The natives 
are mostly retainers of the Governess of Hawaii, 
Ruth Keelikolani, who has a house there. So have 
the king and other members of the royal family, 


28 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


as a place of summer resort. Just gt the entrance 
of the little village, near enough to satisfy the sense 
of human brotherhood, but separate enough for 
domestic integrity and personal freedom, there is a 
choice bit of seaside felicity, owned and occupied by 
my friend’s friend. In the Hawaiian Islands your 
friend’s friend is doubly your friend. You seem to 
be received as twice a man there if you come recom¬ 
mended by another. Your host treats you as if you 
were not only yourself, but his friend, your indorser. 
And so it happened that we soon found ourselves 
inside the sociable-looking open fence. I protest 
that this fence was more inviting than forbidding. 
The very pigs of the neighborhood felt free to enter 
there when the gate was left open. How many times 
since that hour have I seen — “ but let me not antici¬ 
pate.” 

We found the establishment of our friend’s friend 
consisted of three cottages within one enclosure, with 
convenient sheds for horses. One of these cottages 
was wholly unoccupied. There was a superfluity of 
furniture in the other houses, and best of all, there 
was an obliging man, willing to rent us the cottage 
at a merely nominal rate, and ready, with his liberal- 
hearted wife’s consent, to let us share his comfortable 
home and board. This, then, was to be our resting- 
place. Found at last! The spot we had travelled 
five thousand miles to see. We hated to leave it. 


WAIKIKI. 


29 


Why not begin at once ? The place might vanish 
away before we could see it again. What if Diamond 
Head, a volcano close at hand, but extinct as far back 
as memory ran, — what if it should wake up and over¬ 
whelm our Eden ? It seemed too good to be true 
that we were really coming here to abide. 

And yet we did. Three days afterwards, when the 
western sun was pouring its full radiance across the 
harbor, lighting even the dull marshes with its im¬ 
partial charity, burnishing the palms and brightening 
the feathery algarobas with transcendent beauty, 
running over the upland fields like a green flood of 
unconsuming fire, and at length filling the misty vale 
of Manoah with rainbow tints, between the moun¬ 
tains and the ocean, we drove down to Waikiki. 
There stood our cottage. It had not been swallowed 
up. Leahi had been merciful. Another and a kinder 
hand than his had been at work in its chambers. 

Fresh matting, woven of palm leaves in the beauti¬ 
ful basket pattern common in native manufacture, 
covered the floors. Lounges of cane, or cushioned to 
suit the taste that preferred ease to coolness, stretched 
their beguiling length on the verandas and in the little 
parlor. In one of the bedrooms a very bed of Ware 
was made up. Fancy a bed twelve feet by fourteen, 
really filling the whole sleeping-room, excepting a 
narrow strip at the foot and along one side. It was 
provided by our host in that spirit of graceful ac- 


30 


ALOHA ! ” 


commodation to native habits, that amiable agree¬ 
ment with whatever is harmless in the peculiar living 
of the native, which is so marked a trait in the Ha¬ 
waiian citizen of foreign birth. Native families com¬ 
monly sleep in one bed, with one voluminous tapa 
covering over them. A snug little household like 
ours found ample accommodation on this roomy 
mattress. Indeed, our boy became so used to the 
ample verge of this great bed, that, waking up one 
night, months afterwards, in the narrower bertli of 
the steamship “ Zealandia,” he pathetically cried out 
that he could not find himself. 

I wonder if it ever happens that one’s true self 
runs away from one, to visit, as it were, in some more 
genial land. Certain it is that our “ infant crying in 
the night ” exactly expressed our previous predica¬ 
ment. The problem before us as we drove down to 
Waikiki could hardly be better stated than by say¬ 
ing that we were in search of ourselves. The pen¬ 
alty of living too thickly with other people is, that a 
man soon falls into the common ways of thinking, 
speaking, and doing; and, unless he is possessed of 
very unusual defences, — a very thick skin or very 
sharp claws, — he turns out nobody by becoming ev¬ 
erybody. Whither had our good man flown ? Should 
we not find him in this swept and garnished house ? 
Alas, alas ! the devils also like a clean room, it has 
been said. But we have no fears but those of hope, 


WAIKIKI. 


31 


not daring quite to trust its own predictions, when 
we leave the world behind and enter this happy re¬ 
treat. 

Boku takes our horse and buggy. Kai Kaula de¬ 
posits our trunks, smiles an ivory smile, and leaves 
us. Our thoughtful hostess, having anticipated our 
every earthly want, consigns us, after a hearty wel¬ 
come, to the full enjoyment of our rest. We sink 
into the nearest chair or lounge, and look the satis¬ 
faction we cannot speak. But let no man count on 
peace who has within him a hungry stomach, and be¬ 
side him a hungry boy. Between the two, we were 
nearly ground to powder before dinner was announced. 
It is not in the least humiliating to owe the intense 
sense of comfort and completeness, which we after¬ 
wards experienced, to the dinner and its surround¬ 
ings. Eating in the lanai at Waikiki is a noble 
exercise of some of the highest faculties of man. 
Your table is set upon a platform forty feet by fifty, 
which stretches from the rear of the cottage down to 
the very edge of the sea. Above your head two im¬ 
mense haa trees hold up the roof.- Their thick fo¬ 
liage, starred with yellow flowers, shades the upper 
surface of the roof; their far-reaching, sinewy branches 
groin the ceiling from below; their great trunks help 
to furnish and adorn the room; and in their crooks 
and crannies pots of flowers and ferns find a natural 
and becoming resting-place. 


32 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


On two sides the piazza is enclosed by a wooden 
wall, one-third closely boarded, the upper two-thirds 
open as the day. There are blinds that lift or fall 
over this open space, according to your pleasure or 
the demands of the weather. The cottage is on the 
inner side, or mauka, as they say in Hawaii; and the 
remaining side adjoins the culinary department, and, 
nearer the sea, opens into a large bathing-house. Fur¬ 
nish this sheltered yet thoroughly open-air dining¬ 
room with rattan lounges and easy-chairs; let the 
sewing-machine, the work-table, the bureau, the 
dainty parlor vases filled with roses, the children’s 
playthings, — let any and every thing in the house that 
wants to come, come and enjoy the free, out-of-door 
life which pervades this place; hang a generous 
branch of daily ripening bananas up over the tall re¬ 
frigerator ; set the graceful earthen water-coolers on 
the sideboard, — and you have what may be called the 
still life of our picture. But when you add the 
stately, ample figure of Maikopu, the native woman- 
of-all-work, which means no work as nearly as pos¬ 
sible ; her thatch of short, crisp, curling iron-gray 
hair; her great black eyes, that seemed always strug¬ 
gling, like spider-captured flies, to free themselves 
from the web in which slumber’s chain had bound 
them ; her deliberate gait and swinging arms as she 
walked about the premises, a wrathful prophecy of 
coming woe to neighbors’ pigs that ventured within 


WAIKIKI. 


33 


her domain, a solid comfort to the children of the 
household, their equal butt and darling, — when you 
summon from the china-closet that celestial waiter, 
Ah Why, with his shock of wiry black hair en- 
wreathed by his inseparable queue in a sort of unfad¬ 
ing lei , as if in deference to the Hawaiian custom 
of crowning the head with flowers; his finely pen¬ 
cilled features, done in india-ink, and as inscrutable 
as his handwriting; his empty-looking clothing and 
exhausted cheeks, — when you surround the dining- 
table with fresh, joyous, healthy child faces, and 
give us old folks a half-rejuvenated look as we sit 
among them, — when you fancy yourself amid all 
this novel abundance, balancing your taste between 
rare roast-beef and plover, that are all ready to turn 
into swallows and fly down red lane, — ah ! then you 
scent from afar our dinner that evening at Waikiki, 
and almost know why I say that dining there is a 
noble exercise of some of the highest faculties of 
man. Are you aesthetic, devoted to household art ? 
Eastlake never designed a fairer room than this. 
Are you fond of scenery ? Look at that picture on 
the southern exposure, — Diamond Head and the 
Pacific Ocean. Or turn westward, and see the sun 
setting behind the dreamy hills. Does form delight 
you more than color? Watch that group of native 
fishermen launching their long canoe. The bronzes 
of the Vatican are dead cripples beside them. See 


34 


“ ALOHA!” 


them paddle to the reef, and, seizing the flood swell, 
bound over it as easily as a salmon would leap a cas¬ 
cade. The stupidity of companionship where the 
leading interest is eating and drinking is relieved 
here not only by conversation, which is never a local 
commodity, but by the beauty and variety of the out¬ 
look, and the possibility that the sail which may 
come whitening around Diamond Head at any mo¬ 
ment is bringing tidings from friends and news from 
distant peoples. 

It is no uncommon sauce in the living at Waikiki 
to have an ocean steamer or bark, with all its de¬ 
lightful possibilities and uncertainties of news, served 
to the eye, while the dainty mullet appeals to the 
palate. 

But I have said enough to justify my claim that 
there is nothing humiliating in the confession that a 
deeper content stole over us after dinner than before; 
nor will any parent suspect us of want of natural 
affection when we add, that the last obstacle to per¬ 
fect rest was removed when the children were safe in 
their beds, and only active in their unknown dreams. 

That evening I lay on a cane-woven couch, in a 
grove of coco palms, looking up into the sky. Is 
there any reserve so complete as the utter openness 
of the heavens ? Come, look into my very heart, 
they seem to say; and yet who can say that he knows 
what is there? I saw the stars dimmed, but not 




WAIKIKI. 


35 


*• 


quenched, by the almost dazzling brilliancy of the 
moon. A giant palm waved its punka over me, and 
the rustling of its great fan seemed one with the low 
moan and sighing of the sea. Why must bliss turn 
to indifference or pain as soon as man is conscious of 
it ? Why cannot I lie still in this perfect hour and 
on this perfect spot, and be content, without a ques¬ 
tion, a thought even, to break the spell ? Stranger 
yet, why is it, when earth and air and sky and soul 
agree, and every thing seems to favor the mutual reve¬ 
lation, — why is it that nothing comes ? I fell sound 
asleep. 

Next door to us was a large family of natives, in a 
very small house. The way they lived in it was by 
living outside of it. The lane, the yard, the porch, 
the beach, every contiguous spot, was alive with men, 
women, children, dogs, and pigs, the usual constitu¬ 
ents of a Hawaiian family. Every half-hour during 
the day a sudden and simultaneous squealing, yelping, 
screaming, and scolding announced a collision of these 
social forces. The only surety of comparative quiet 
was when the children were playing marbles in the 
lane, the men working at their nets or on the sea, the 
women idling on the porch, the pigs sunning them¬ 
selves, and the little curs gone visiting. Sure of 
the unfailing taro, and rich in the daily catch of 
mullet, there was no sufficient inducement to labor 
among a people of moderate wants. An intelligent 



36 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


visitor to these islands having been asked what in his 
opinion was the chief obstacle to the elevation of the 
people, answered, in one word, “ taro” This nu¬ 
tritious root of the arum esculentum, growing so easily 
that one month’s labor in a taro patch will supply a 
moderate-sized family a year, furnishes in itself all that 
is needed to support life. Cooked in various ways, 
by baking, boiling, frying, and equally good in each, 
it escapes the danger of surfeiting the eater; while 
in its commonest form as poi, it makes an acceptable 
sauce to every kind of meat or fish. To make poi, 
the root is first baked in the earth, and then pounded 
with big stone pestles to the consistency of a thick 

flour paste. Every night we see the fires of these 

* 

earth-ovens blazing through the palm groves, and in 
the morning, about as often as a New England house¬ 
keeper makes bread, the men of the family make poi. 
Our neighbor may be seen, on his great baking-day, 
stripped to the waist and seated on the ground, with 
a large wooden platter or flat chopping-tray before 
him. Into this tray the baked taro is thrown, and 
then, lifting his pestle to the full extent of his long 
arms, he pounds it as if it were his worst enemy in¬ 
stead of his best friend. If the sweat of the brow is 
the fair price of one’s bread, he earns his many times 
over, for the perspiration fairly bathes his whole body. 
Perhaps he has to bear the curse for the entire family, 
however, for they certainly do not suffer from the work 


WAIKIKI. 


37 


they do. Washing, the only very active employment 
among the women, is beautifully accommodated to 
their cool laziness. They squat on the edge of a run¬ 
ning stream, partly immersed in the water, and make 
the river and stones do most of the work. As they 
commonly wear but one garment, — a full flowing over¬ 
dress called a holoku; and the men, when at their 
business of fishing, are in full attire if they have their 
malo around the waist; and the children have no 
clothing to mention, unless it be an unmentionable,— 
the washing is not very severe. 

The cares of housekeeping are reduced to a mini¬ 
mum here. I recall my anxious, worried lady-friends 
at home, discussing the servant question, and only 
settling it by becoming slaves themselves to their 
composite labors, and turn a glance at these plump, 
cheery, lazy, careless women, stretched on the ground 
half the day long, and wonder which is better. It is 
rather hard for a preacher of absolute truth to find 
himself exactly reversing his teaching according to cir¬ 
cumstances. And yet here was I, whose one gospel to 
the congregation at home had been, “live more simply,” 
framing the very opposite message for these people. 
“ Be ambitious to live in .better houses, to wear bet¬ 
ter clothes, to have finer furniture, to live in all ways 
more richly,” I would have said to them. Until some 
such ambition is aroused in them, no permanent 
achievements in civilization can be expected of the 


38 


ALOHA ! ” 


Hawaiians. They are not a trade-loving people. My 
host, who knows them thoroughly, says that there is 
not a Hawaiian shopkeeper in Honolulu. They have 
a natural taste for decorative art. They make capital 
penmen. 

If I were going now as missionary to these islands, 
I would begin my work by setting up a drawing-school 
in Honolulu. Trade-schools and industrial art institu¬ 
tions are the foremost want of the people. I believe 
they would develop an admirable capacity in these 
directions, if properly instructed. I tried to say as 
much as strongly as I could to the king, in the single 
interview I had with him. He had been in Boston, 
and spoke admiringly of her schools, which gave me 
the opportunity to tell him what had been attempted 
in the evening schools there, and what we hoped from 
the new attention given to industrial education. He 
listened courteously; but who can ever tell whether 
courtesy covers conviction or takes its place. This 
royal audience was one of the Waikiki incidents, al¬ 
though it was given us in Honolulu. It deserves a 
description. We were invited to a moonlight recep¬ 
tion at a hospitable house in town. The royal band 
was to be stationed in the grounds, by the permission 
of the king, and the social popularity of both host and 
hostess insured a choice and charming company. 

We drove to the city just as day was cooling into 
night, and, passing the festive grounds, were some- 


WAIKIKI. 


39 


what taken aback to see through. the open windows 
the costumes of an elaborate party. Fortunately, our 
wedding garments were in town, and it was an easy 
matter to exchange our spots for the plain black 
which seemed demanded by the occasion. Once ad¬ 
mitted, we found that any decent costume would have 
been in place. People prepared for the promenade 
were as much at home as the ball-room exquisites. 
Indeed, if royalty may give the rule, the promenaders 
were most fittingly arrayed, for we found the prin¬ 
cesses holding a shady court on the right veranda, 
and by and by the king himself came in, wearing his 
walking costume of white pants and blue round¬ 
about. The house was noble both in proportions 
and ownership. Broad verandas surrounded it, palms 
and tamarinds, and mango and samang, and every 
other beautiful tropical tree that grows in that island, 
decorated the grounds. Music and moonlight filled 
the air with light and social sympathy, and all went 
merry as a marriage bell. 

But, “ hush ! hark ! ” not the booming of Water¬ 
loo, but the hardly less startling sound of the fire 
alarm is heard, signalling a fire in the royal bar¬ 
racks. The alarm came in one of the pauses of the 
instrumental music, when we were treated to singing 
in the grand parlor. Our diva of the salon was just 
rendering one of Abt’s tenderest and sweetest songs 
when the horrible clang of the bell and fearful hubbub 


40 


“ ALOHA ! 




in tlie street began. The royal band hurried off to 
save their belongings in the burning barracks, con¬ 
versation broke out, a subdued stampede from the 
gentlemen was started, and still the sweet voice sang 
its song to the end, leaving one listener at least both 
grateful and despairing. For why must it always 
happen that just at the critical moment of almost per¬ 
fect satisfaction in the enjoyment of art, or worship, 
or society, or solitude, there comes an unwelcome 
voice, a creaking of the door, a dropping of a hymn- 
book, or an alarm of fire, to break the spell ? The fire 
was a fiasco. Its purpose was apparently fulfilled in 
spoiling that song. The band was soon playing again 
under the algaroba trees, and I was having my first 
conversation with a king, and eating ice-cream with her 
royal highness, the Princess Kamakaeha. Apropos of 
the king’s interest in Boston (to which I have already 
referred), they tell a good story down town. At a 
court reception, soon after Kalikaua returned from his 
visit to the United States, he spoke with great satis¬ 
faction of his stay in Boston, and turning to a New- 
Yorker, asked him if he had ever been there. “ May 
it please your majesty,” said the witty Gothamite, “ I 
never heard of the place before.” 

Well, the party came to an end, as every party must, 
and we went back to our cottage by the sea, newly 
enamoured of its retirement, in spite of one of the 
most enjoyable evenings society can furnish. When 


WAIKIKI. 


41 


the instinct of hospitality which is native to these 
islands^, gets informed and enriched and graced by 
foreign wealth, intelligence, and culture, it certainly 
furnishes the perfection of social entertainment. Of 
course there are in other lands special circles of 
choice spirits who secure a brilliant intercourse all to 
themselves of a rare and high kind, but I question if 
anywhere in the whole world general society is more 
attractive than in Honolulu. Certainly nowhere else 
do so many nationalities blend in harmonious social 
intercourse. Natives of every well-known country 
reside there, and trading vessels or war-ships from 
America and the leading countries of Europe are 
frequently in port. A remarkable trait of these for¬ 
eign-born or naturalized Hawaiians is that their inter¬ 
est in their native land seems only intensified by their 
distant residence. The better Hawaiians they are, the 
better Americans, English, French, or Germans they 
are. And thus it happens that you meet people fully 
alive to all the great questions and issues of the day 
all the world over. Their distance from the scene of 
these conflicts seems to clear their view of them, and 
I have heard some of the wisest possible comments 
upon American affairs, methods, and policies from 
residents of the islands. Besides, they have in small 
the same problems to solve in their little kingdom 
which engage us. All the projected reforms, social, 
moral, civil, or religious, have their place and agita- 


42 


“ALOHA!” 


tors there. The instinct of self-preservation compels 
prohibitory legislation in the interest of temperance. 
Among a people so incapable of self-care, as most of 
the native population is, no question is felt to be 
more vital to the continued existence of the Hawaiian 
nation than this; and if life on earth is ever to be 
worth the living, this same question of temperance 
must be practically solved. As I came across the 
American continent, following the line of the Great 
Pacific Railroad, and saw what a succession of drink- 
ing saloons the little towns were, I could not but 
feel that the train was laid, and in California, with its 
habitual hard drinking, the mine was dug, which 
might one day blow the American nation out of 
existence. The labor questions were as fresh there in 
Hawaii as here, and even more pressing. Caj)ital 
was just as selfish and labor just as unreasonable as 
elsewhere. I heard so little of woman’s suffrage, that 
I imagined that had never been mooted there; but 
I was mistaken, for on expressing this opinion to a 
prominent official in Honolulu, he gave me an 
amusing incident of the first exercise of this civil 
trust. When the people were summoned to vote, 
behold, the women came with the men, very naturally 
conceiving that they were people, and insisted on 
depositing their votes. “What did you do about 
it?” I asked. “Oh,” said he, with the utmost non¬ 
chalance, as if that were an easy question, “ we took 
their votes and didn’t count ’em.” 


WAIKIKI. 


43 


Religion was even more fully represented on the 
islands than the reforms or politics. It really seems 
as if every religion on the face of the earth had made 
the conversion of the Hawaiians a sort of test of its 
own power and destiny. In a half-hour’s walk from 
our cottage at Waikiki to Diamond Head I passed a 
little Protestant church of the Congregational school, 
then a Roman Catholic church, then the ruins of 
an old heiau , or heathen temple, and in one of the 
dwelling-houses a Mormon missionary was holding a 
meeting. In a country where the number of male 
inhabitants largely exceeds the females, the preaching 
of polygamy must seem like mockery. 

But we did not come to Waikiki to discuss ques¬ 
tions of religion and reform, but rather for a season 
to leave them in abeyance. Because it is Sunday 
afternoon when we take our walk along-shore, must 
we sit and muse on the ruins of that old heiau , and 
grow sad over its harrowing associations with human 
sacrifices and brutal rites? Why should the tradition 
of sin be more congenial to religious feeling than the 
bright, glad, heavenly prospect of to-day ? Come, let 
us hold converse with the air, the sea, and to-day’s 
sunshine! Let the laughing children take off their 
shoes and stockings and paddle along the beach, and 
let us follow them. See! Gaddy has found a rare bit 
of coral, and gives it to us for our young museum; 
and now Gardy has his bare foot on a squid, and see 


44 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


how the Tyrian purple colors water and sand as he 
presses it. The plovers go whistling over the low 
plain, the sea breaks gently on the lava rocks, and 

0 

we walk along the sandy pathway, bordered on one 
side by blue waves and on the other by the sea-green 
grass and the broad leaves of the trailing sea-side 
convolvulus. 

Wha't valley is that ou the right as we walk home¬ 
wards ? My friend says it is Palolo, and we plan an 
excursion thither next week. He has a native friend 
who knows the valley through and through; no doubt 
he knows the lay of the land. But who can pene¬ 
trate the real nature or reflected consciousness of 
Palolo valley, its face all sunshine, its heart a vale of 
tears ? 

They say the rarest ferns on Oahu grow in its 
moist recesses. This gives new zest to our desire to 
explore it; for although we are not learned yet in 
ferns or enthusiastic in collecting them, we cannot 
wholly escape the general interest which these grace¬ 
ful plants excite in the circle of our acquaintance 
here. The deep, damp valleys in which these islands 
abound are the natural abode of ferns, and there are 
few countries in the world where they grow in such 
numbers, variety, and perfection. Let it be confessed 
here that my friend and I never took that excursion 
together. The cares of this world swallowed up his 
good intentions. I went in other company, however. 


WAIKIKI. 


45 


It was a golden forenoon in the following week when 
we started together, Gardy on his own pony, and I 
on the unapproachable Bim,— at least this was Bim’s 
reputation; but every horse is more than half a man, 
i. e. his rider counts as much in the race as he does. 
Somehow that pony, with his dashing boy-rider, 
always managed to keep Bim and me a full length 
behind. We went tearing down the lane together, 
the admiration of the native population and terror of 
the pigs. Then coming to the marshes, we galloped 
over them by short cuts, taking a ford or two on the 
way, and came out upon the travelled road which 
takes the direction of Palolo but never reaches it. 
Long before the valley is gained, your road runs into 
a pathway which finally loses itself in the rank grass 
lining the sides of the deep gulch. 

Neither of us knowing the precise way, we took 
advantage of every encounter with natives to ask 
their direction. Gardy’s glib Hawaiian answered all 
the purposes of communication, and we posted from 
one smiling face and pleasant “Aloha” to another as 
we sped on our course. We pass through a rough- 
and-tumble region of lava block, whose barrenness 
seemed only more hopeless in the growth of that 
leathery plant, the prickly pear. A visitor from an¬ 
other planet would undoubtedly consider an old 
sandal the seed of this desperate attempt at vege¬ 
tation. Presently we enter fi stretch of verdant 


46 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


country which hardly suffers a break in its luxuriance. 
Kukui and ohia trees climb the sides of the valley 
to their very tops. Ferns and guava bushes and 
rank grasses cover every other spot. We press 
through these lesser growths wherever the memory 
of a path still lingers in the down-trodden grass, 
until further progress seems forbidden by an abrupt 
declivity. Then we tie the horses to a kukui tree, 
and go foraging for ferns. Plenty of them; but even 
our inexperienced eyes cannot make these Davallias 
rare, or find a wonder in the commoner Asplenium. 
How quickly abundance surfeits admiration! Only 
a week before, we were on our knees in the mud, in 
all the abandon of delighted discovery of the 
Davallia hirta , and to-day we hardly look at it, grow¬ 
ing around us as thick as grass. The only real 
sensation afforded us in fern gathering was the dis¬ 
covery of a few feeble specimens of the Pteris 
decipiens, or geranium-fern, as it is often called. It 
grew on the face of a perpendicular cliff, and, looking 
up, we could see, on the under side, the neat border 
of rich brown fruitage, setting off the graceful cut 
and delicate green texture of the leaves. I take it 
as evidence that it is the thought in nature, more 
than the perfection of its expression, which most 
delights us, that these first poor little fronds of the 
geranium-fern gave us more intense pleasure than 
the magnificent specimens we afterwards gathered. 
The first-fruits gave us the idea. 


WAIKIKI. 


47 


There was exactly time enough after our return 
from Palolo to take a plunge into the sea before 
dinner. The young fry were before us, our little 
land-lubber of a son showing among these water- 
sprites of Waikiki like a chicken among ducklings. 
A better bathing-place for children could not be 
found. The sandy beach sloped very gradually, the 
waves came rolling gently in, their full force broken 

by a reef of coral an eighth of a mile from shore. 

* 

This reef defended the bathing-place as well from 
sharks, who knew too much to venture inside it. 
Here children could play as safely as if they were 
indoors. Gatty’s bright eyes seemed to come up 
brighter after every dip. Little Helena’s curls lan¬ 
guished a little, but her dimples never surrendered, 
and her chubby face resting on the water looked like 
the pictures of cherubs in the clouds, with puffed-out 
cheeks blowing great gales. There being no mirror 
at hand, I cannot describe my own appearance; but if 
there was anything forlorn about it, the dripping 
clothes must take the blame, not I. The inner man 
felt jolly after the double tonic of a horseback ride 
and a sea-bath, and dinner again in the lanai com¬ 
pletely restored our usual modicum of comeliness 
and self-respect. 

The perfection of bathing, however, was reserved 
for another hour. Not under the mid-day sun, when 
the heat threatens to precipitate you in a bed of 


48 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


chloride of sodium, is that hour found, but at night, 
just before going to bed, when the bairns are in 
their cribs, and the pigs are only noisy in their slum¬ 
bers ; when the moon rides high above the waving 
palms, and in the still air each ripple of the water 
speaks with startling distinctness; when, looking land¬ 
ward, the valleys seem exalted and the hills made 
low, and seaward, the music of the breakers greets 
the ear; when a silver street from Diamond Head 
stretches far out to sea, and you know not who may 
be walking there, — then, ah, then is the hour to break 
the cerements in which the body of this death which 
we call life is wrapped, and plunge into the real sea 
of Being. On such a night I have floated on the 
ocean near Waikiki, the wave my pillow, moonlight 
my covering, the heavens my canopy, and there was 
“ rest.” 





A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


49 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 

^ I 7E were pleasantly surprised, on our arrival at 
* * the wharf, to find the royal band playing 
there. The whisper of Vanity, that the king had 
arranged this musical farewell in our honor, was soon 
hushed by the scorn of Common Sense and the re¬ 
buke of Modesty. The single interview we had been 
permitted to enjoy with his Majesty could hardly 
have made so great an impression upon him that he 
should lay aside the cares of state, and take to de¬ 
vising honors and pleasant surprises for undistin¬ 
guished visitors to his kingdom. And yet there was 
an upward aim in the grand Prussian band-leader’s 
bugle which seemed to say that his music sought an¬ 
other and finer audience than that which was grouped 
about him on the wharf. A more delighted hearing 
could hardly have been given him. The faces of this 
Hawaiian crowd, dark and heavy in repose, lighted up 
wonderfully under the influence of music. It was like 
the flow of the sea over pebbles on the beach, making 
common, dull stones shine and color like gems. 

Swarthy men, fat-faced women, children whose 

natural expression was that look of accumulated mis- 

* 4 




50 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


chief best seen in monkeys’ faces, all seemed re¬ 
deemed for the moment by the spell of Herr B-’s 

playing. Suddenly a gentle excitement among the 
people further up the wharf called our attention to 
that quarter. What charm of music, prostration of 
worship, or spell of genius can resist the nudge of 
curiosity ? We turned like a note of interrogation, 
and soon discerned a modest open carriage making 
its way along the pier, followed by another, even more 
unpretending than the first. These vehicles contained 
the royal family. I easily recognized his Majesty, 
dressed in white pants, a blue roundabout sack, and 
on his head no likeness of a kingly crown, but a neat 
straw hat. There was a certain physical gravity 
about his well-developed body, and an air of easy 
resignation to his high position which might be called 
kingly, and, while every expression of popular good¬ 
will was courteously and even gratefully received, the 
king did not solicit applause by any look or gesture 
which might seem to expect or desire it. In dress, 
in manner, in equipage, in following, he seemed what 
he was, — a citizen king. His quiet bearing and mod¬ 
est attire were a double commendation beside the gay 
and festive apparel and manner of his companion. 
This young gentleman was arrayed in a suit of spot¬ 
less flannel of a creamy hue, which fitted his well- 
rounded limbs like the rind of a melon. A heavy lei 
or wreath of alamander flowers hung around his 



A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


51 


neck, and deepened the richness of the creamy suit 
with its intense yellow, and his light felt hat had its 
original delicacy still more refined by a white, gauze¬ 
like veil of Indian manufacture wound about the 
crown, and hanging its fringed edges from behind. 
A mere colorist in art might liken the bronzed face 
of the prince, thus surrounded by white and yellow, 
to a gorgeous marigold; but the comparison would 
miss all the majesty to which the fine proportions and 
handsome features of the heir-apparent made a legiti¬ 
mate claim. We have seen few prettier pictures of 
native grouping than the leave-taking of our ideal 
beau of a prince. Bounding lightly from his carriage, 
he bows his way graciously through the crowd to the 
open buggy in the rear, and shakes his royal sisters 
by the hand. They, eschewing pride, are driving their 
own team, and sit in the presence of the people with 
that amiable appearance of trying not to think them¬ 
selves so very much above other people, which, like 
mercy, becomes a throned monarch better than his 
crown. 

There was a ponderous sweetness in the ladies’ 
good-by, as, leaning from the carriage, they shook 
hands in the heavy, lingering way of their people, and 
with that beaming good-will which belongs peculiarly 
to the Hawaiian face. Domestic virtues seem most 
beautiful in kings and royal families. It was good 
for all those common people who stood around to 


52 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


see this kindly parting between prince and princesses. 
Brotherly love and family courtesy will grow com¬ 
moner and stronger in every grass house in the island 
for such royal illustration of their dignity and beauty. 

And now our prince is coming on board. The 
king, his brother, comes with him. A retinue of fifteen 
or twenty men accompany his Highness. The band 
strikes up Kam&hamfeha’s March. The bustle of de¬ 
parture, the babble of farewell messages, the last 
words and final commissions, the hissing of steam, 
the hauling of ropes, the calls and responses of officers 
and men, all the seeming confusion which ensues when 
a hundred minds, at one and the same moment, seek 
to do a hundred different things, goes on with the 
music and seems to spoil its harmonies. 

But there is something more than harmony of 
sound in real music; and though this be marred, the 
other influence prevails. Every faculty feels the im¬ 
petus of the soul-stirring band, whether the ear is 
consciously listening or not. As we move into the 
harbor, its surface ruffled with waves, but sustained 
by a still deep below 7 , we seem to ow^e as much to 
the band on shore as to the crew on deck. The mu¬ 
sic sustains the toil. A flutter of w T hite kerchiefs on 
the pier, taken up, when the wharf has disappeared, 
by the breakers along-shore, and continued out at sea 
by waves that seem always signalling their sorrow¬ 
ful farewells; and so w r e go upon our voyage. 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


53 


We are in the steamer “ Kilauea,” bound for Hilo, 
on the island of Hawaii. We think we know some¬ 
thing of the ills, the incidents, and the pleasures of 
the way, from the accounts of previous travellers. Far 
be it from the writer of this paper to disturb his 
reader with doubts regarding the value of such 
knowledge. The present historian certainly is too 
wary thus to destroy in advance the faith of his au¬ 
dience. 

He confidently believes that any reader with ordi¬ 
nary imagination, common understanding, and a little 

* 

dramatic sympathy, will see quite clearly through the 
glass of this description, the steam ark in which we 
are making our voyage with the prince. But for the 
smoke-stack, which rose like a leaning tower from her 
centre, she might have been taken for a lumber-ship 
from the coast of Maine. The pine and red-wood 
boards, which made a large portion of her cargo, 
would have encouraged this mistake, and the liberal 
set of sails by which the winds of heaven were en¬ 
treated to speed the vessel, as if the little engine in 
her hold were conscious of its insufficient force, gave 
further warrant to the comparison. Something of 
this notable lack of driving-power at the centre was 
generously attributed by captain and purser to the 
inferior quality of the coal with which the engine 
was fed. Meantime, we sought to console ourselves 
for the moderation of our speed with the customary 


54 


“ ALOHA!” 


formula, “ slow and sure.” It did not help us much 
in this endeavor to be told by one who knew, that 
the reason of the slight pressure which was applied 
to the boiler was the fear that it would not bear any 
greater strain upon its strength. 

But how base a thing is fear; how doubly base, 
when one is travelling in the same ship with majesty! 
We look for our prince. A camp-stool from the 
cabin serves him as a provisional throne, and around 
this precarious seat upon the after-deck is grouped as 
servile a company of courtiers as any heir-apparent, 
could collect. The same breeze which wafted the 
smoke of his Highness’s cigar in our direction brought 
snatches of conversation, in which there was a suffo¬ 
cating odor of obsequious flattery. To the credit of 
the native complexion be it said, this servility was 
more marked in the manner and speech of foreigners 
than of Hawaiians. There was a respectful desire to 
please, and the natural devotion of followers to their 
master, in the conduct of the native suite. But there 
was all the profusion of insincerity in the address of 
the white courtiers. A red-faced Englishman curi¬ 
ously blended familiarity with deference, as he sat, in 
slouchy ease, beside the prince, leaning confidentially 
towards him, doing the talking for both with equal 
impudence and volubility, and borrowing from the 

pauses in which he took a whiff or two from his cigar, 

✓ 

t ie only moderation or dignity which graced his 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


55 


speech. Every twenty minutes, with remarkable 
regularity, he would disappear, descending into the 
cabin, and returning redder, if possible, than before. 
Evidently the usual accompaniments of a princely 
progress were on board, and this gentleman knew 
where to find them. 

But night is coming on; where shall we sleep ? The 
native passengers are settling the question for them¬ 
selves. Tliev crowd the deck forward of the cabin 

t/ 

with their bale-like figures, rolled up in shawls and 
blankets, and heaped together upon matting woven 
of the limp lauhala leaves. They cover their heads, 
even more carefully than their feet, when sleeping, — 
a habit which, with other unhealthy ways of living, 
will one day cost them their lives. The babble of 
their childlike speech and laughter is hushed in early 
sleep. The slow, unceasing thud of the engine only 
seems to deepen slumber. Even under royal en¬ 
couragement conversation droops, and either the fount 
of inspiration in the cabin runs dry, or too frequent 
draughts have destroyed its potency. The only inter¬ 
ruption to repose is that uneasy something within, 
that substantial ghost, which will not down at your 
bidding. Ah, if we could foil him with sleep! 
“ Steward! let us have our beds made up on deck 
to-night.” And here the persuasive shilling gives 
obedience speed. The mattresses and other bedding 
are soon brought on deck, and we lie looking up from 


56 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


our spreads at the stars that peep down on us, through 
the blanket of the night. The prince’s couch is just 
„ aft of us. It merits a description. Mounted on four 
short but well-turned legs, the royal bedstead stands 
firm and secure in its own weight. In shape and 
style it looks like a big cribbage-board, only it opens 
laterally and not from end to end. Perhaps the 
checker-board which ornaments its top panel, when 
closed, suggested this comparison. Unsealed, it offers 
a capacious couch, where mats, sheets, pillows, and 
all the outward conditions of rest are found closeted 
away. Iron supports are fitted to the sides and ends, 
over which a protecting canopy is spread, and there 
the uneasy head which hopes to wear a crown is in¬ 
vited to rest. 

Leleiohoku, for whom this royal couch has been 
spread, seems not inclined to rest to-night. One by 
one his dusky suite sink into the deeper darkness of 
night and sleep ; his foreign adulators are at length 
sincere in oblivious indifference and heedless slumber. 
Two young Hawaiians, once schoolmates, now com¬ 
panions of the prince, alone remain with him. They 
are singers. So is the prince; and together they solace 
themselves for the day’s weary conversation and the 
night s drowsy unconcern with songs in their low, 
sweet, bubbling native tongue. The guitar, touched 
but never twanged by the skilful, sympathetic player, 
seemed to sing the same sweet, liquid words that 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE 


came from its human companions. I cannot tell what 
part each took. Guitar, prince, friends, all seemed 
to sing as one voice ; and the song they chanted was 
like the movement of the sea, endlessly repeated in 
seeming monotony, and yet never twice the same. 
Somehow it seemed to hold us as a swinging cabin- 
lamp is held in its socket, and keep our spirits up and 
buoyant, as its flame keeps straight amid the tossing 
of the sea. Its rise and cadence were one with the 
ship’s career upon the waves, and while the music 
lasted sickness was dispelled. 



“ Sing on, dear prince,’ we willed, but dared not 
cry, lest the consciousness of our hearing should dis¬ 
turb the perfect simplicity of this song in the night. 
“ Fear not to wake the sleepers ; waking, they will be 
doubly blessed, and sleeping, some added grace and 
peace will wait upon their dreams! ” 

And so we fell on sleep, the stars, like angels’ faces, 
beaming watchfully above us, the breezy trade-wind 
fanning our repose, the music soothing us as if it 
were Nature’s lullaby, and the glad waves clapping 
their hands as if they too heard and loved the prince’s 
song. 

Does the ear or the eye wake first ? Is it sound or 
light which first rouses us from sleep ? Starlight still 

















58 


ALOHA ! ” 


reigned when we awoke, but there was a new signifi¬ 
cance in the sounds that greeted us. The regular beat 
ing of the engine, whose monotony had become a 
positive sedative, now grew fitful, and finally ceased. 
Orders and responses, and the scuffle of hurrying feet, 
the flapping of sails as they came bellying down, and 
the rattle and squeak of pulley and rope ; the jargon 
of half-roused natives breaking through the chrysalis 
cerements in which Death’s brother -had wound them; 
the love-pat of the sea upon the ship’s side, so differ¬ 
ent from the hard slap it had been used to; the re¬ 
viving crowing of the ship’s live fowl, answered from 
afar by kindred voices; the little crowd by the ship’s 
side, brought out in glowing distinctness by the lan¬ 
tern they held ; the thump of the lowering boat as it 
struck the water; and the sound of oars and hospi¬ 
table voices on the dim sea, — this stir of noises all 
predominated by the sudden rush of escaping steam, 
whose long, shrill hush, as if to quell the'racket, was 
the most rousing of all, brought us gradually to the 
consciousness that we had arrived somewhere, and 
were at'-anchor. We were in Lahaina harbor, and it 
was four o’clock in the morning. A vision as of a 
creamy star suddenly falling out of darkness into dark¬ 
ness more profound, and we realized that our prince 
had gone down over the vessel’s side, to take the boat 
for shore. No more sleep. Sitting on the deck, we 
reversed the usual way of waking up, the eyes grad- 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


59 


ually opening to a view already well up before us; 
and, wide-awake ourselves, we looked and saw the 
land, the sea, the sky come into perceptible existence. 
We knew enough, thanks to the old fable, to look to 
the west to catch the first view of the rising sun, and 
out of the rosy curtain of morning mist we could see 
Lanai come forth, and further off Molokai. Sunward 
a black mountain stood, raying light, and as the sun 
rose higher, and poured its rays over the summit, the 
whole western slope was clothed in living green. 
The fresh, wavy verdure of the cane-fields could not 
be disguised by distance or by morning mists, nor 
could one mistake the tall coco palms, with their 
unique figures. But all the other foliage failed to 
report its kind to the distant spectator. Its abun¬ 
dance was so great, that one could hardly discern the 
houses, peeping timidly from beneath overgrowing 
trees and vines. 

The sun is well up when we resume our voyage. 
Our prince may not be snatched too quickly from the 
embraces of his prospective subjects, abjects now. He 
comes at length, newly adorned with leis of fresh red 
roses. His English travelling companion also wears a 
big collar of the same hue, a surfeit of red. Then we 
start again, and coast along the shore of Maui till we 
come to Maalea Bay. Here the surf rolls in such high 
breakers towards the sandy shore, that we look 
anxiously at the crowded boat, riding, as it seems, 


60 


ALOHA ! ” 


straight into the curling, breaking waves. We do not 
see how or where, but somehow she has escaped them, 
and through some gap in the dangerous reef she has 
found the shore. The passengers are landed, safe 
and merry. We hear them laughing on the little pier, 
where they stand crowded together. It seems to be 
no small part of the business of the “Kilauka” to lose 
time; or is it due in part to our fine company that 
we make such halting progress ? There is nothing 
engaging in the island at this point; a dreary plain 
between two dreary mountains offering poor invest¬ 
ment for one’s powers of vision and admiration. A 
kindly shark comes to our rescue in this dull juncture, 
and the tedium of waiting is relieved by watching his 
dignified antics. Bits of orange-peel thrown upon the 
waters served for a time to keep up the delusion of 
breakfasting. Afterwards, a more substantial but less 
harmless morsel was offered him. A bit of salt pork, 
despoiled by death, time, and pickle of its native con¬ 
trariness, was tied to a long rope and thrown over¬ 
board. Nothing short of a man or baby could have 
been more attractive to the shark. He eyed it from 
afar as it sank bewitchingly beneath the waves. Even 
when his back was turned, he seemed to see his 
fate in that delicious bait, and no affected indiffer¬ 
ence could conceal his inclination for it. “ Look ! 
he turns. Now he is coming for it. Quiet, every¬ 
body ! ” Nearer and nearer he comes. Nearer and 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


61 


nearer the boatswain draws the bait. No use, he sees 
his enemy, or catches some dim suspicion of an evil in¬ 
fluence near him. He turns and swims slowly away. 
Another throw, and the ingratiating pig is after him. 
He sees it, slowly turns again, and follows its sinking 
sweetness. Nearer, nearer they come, pork and shark. 
“ Now for it! ” The harpoon goes hurtling through 
the air and dashing beneath the water. “ Pull now! ” 
and the men pull, and soon there is stretched on deck 
— the harpoon, a little wet, but otherwise unin¬ 
jured. 

Still skirting along Maui, till we come to Makee’s 
Landing. Is it the sea-sickness which has spoiled our 
vision, or is this scenery less grand than it has been 
described? We certainly feel no enthusiasm about 
it, and find nothing in the rude landing-place to 
tempt us to disembark. Far up the side of a big hill 
we see a hopeful patch of cultivated land, and that, 
we suppose, is the famous Ulupalakua, or sugar plan¬ 
tation, of Captain Makee. Paradise, at this distance, 
looks wonderfully like any other place. Meantime, 
if this is “Halehkalh,” or the “ House of the Sun,” we 
begin to wish the sun would stay indoors, for it is 
getting scorchingly hot. What is that about the Ha¬ 
waiian channel ? “ As bad as the English Channel,” 

did some one say, and twice as long a passage. Mem¬ 
ories of a pitiless run from Dieppe to Newcastle 
crowd on us with mocking distinctness. “ Steward, 


62 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


you needn’t take away the beds; it isn’t necessary.” 
“ Breakfast? ” “ No, thank you, we are not hungry.” 

But our fellow-passengers are. Maimoku, the matron 
of the princely retinue, is setting her table. A lauhala 
mat is spread on the deck; calabashes of polished ko 
are filled with poi, and placed upon the mat; dried 
fish is set forth Jto give the feast a sort of back¬ 
bone, and “Welcome! welcome ! ” Maimokuseems to 
say. A crowd of hungry men surround her, but she 
still reserves a seat. She looks at me, smiles, and 
motions her generous invitation. I decline as grate¬ 
fully as if I could have accepted her kind attention. 
Every seat is soon taken, and it was better than a 
feast, at that precise moment, to see those people dip 
the social finger into the same calabash and partake 
of the pasty poi, and smack their lips in musical ac¬ 
cord over their flitches of dried mullet and squid. 
Suddenly, when we were taking such amiable delight 
in our neighbor’s enjoyment, such unenvying satisfac¬ 
tion in another’s cheer, we became conscious that the 
“ Kilauea ” had been taken in tow by a sea-serpent. 
Apropos of the Hawaiian channel, all through that 
dreary day we were swung through the water as com¬ 
fortably as if we had taken passage to the moon on 
the tail of a kite. The sun shone brightly. He didn’t 
care. The sea fairly danced with malicious enjoy¬ 
ment. The sky was as blue as a brand-new farm- 
cart. So were we. 


A VOYAGE WITH THE PRINCE. 


63 


Iii the cabin below us, the pathetic strumming of 
the prince’s guitar, mingled with voices “ now queru¬ 
lously high, now softly, sadly low,” and the singing 
that was so sure a balm by night, strove in vain to 
banish the sleepless miseries of day upon the channel. 

And yet, as I recall that terrible day, at a safe dis¬ 
tance in time and space, I remember even more viv¬ 
idly than its disagreements the songs that floated up 
through the companion-way. “ Good tidings from 
home! ” Did the royal singer know then that we 
had left Honolulu with this best blessing in our 
hands, — good news from the dear friends at home ? 
Yes, even in that hour our hearts responded to that 
song. And what was the taking melody your High¬ 
ness gave us with every other line, “ Comrades, 
touch your elbows”? Was it a song of the camp? 
Surely never warrior was wooed by such dulcet com¬ 
mand as that. There was nothing of military ring or 
rigor in that luscious entreaty to close up the ranks. 
Doves and nightingales alone could render such a 
duet as your soft voices tuned us. And, best of all, 
those tender, sweet, rippling, eddying Hawaiian 
songs, rivers of refreshment were they in our terrible 
desert of life. 

We shall never forget them. 


64 


ALOHA ! ” 



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So singing and sighing we sailed past the setting 
sun into the night again. And at midnight there was 
a cry made. We started as if the coming of the 
Bridegroom were indeed announced. “ Look ! ” cried 
one, pointing to the heavens ; and there, far up among 
the stars that overhung the southern horizon, we saw 
a great light. Alone, but for the stars, with no 
clearly visible base of mountain or of land, there 
glowed the torch of Mauna Loa in the heavens. The 

















































































































HILO HOMES. 


65 


sight was as unexpected by the other voyagers as by 
ourselves. Only once in intervals of two or three 
years does Mokuaweoweo, the summit crater of 
Mauna Loa, break forth. Ordinarily, the fiery flood 
finds opening enough in Kilauea, the ever-active 
crater on the side of Mauna Loa. Only in some 
crisis in the kingdom, some great event in the royal 
family, is the flame kindled on the summit, says the 
popular belief. I turn to see how this portent affects 
our prince. He is awake and up. He will land 
presently at Kawaihae, where he goes to make a 
visit. In the darkness I can see nothing of his face 
or its expression. A single spot of fire, as of a glow¬ 
ing coal, suddenly and momentarily breaks out there. 
The prince is smoking his cigar. “ Ah, my prince! ” 
I inwardly cry, “ there’s a great, great flood of fiery, 
mad, brutal, devastating passion under and in and 
through us all. Keep it down, keep it under, you in 
your high places, or a portent more terrible than 
Mokuaweoweos torch will flame over Hawaii Kei . 1 

1 Prince William Pitt Leleiolioku died April 11, 1877. 


5 


66 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


HILO HOMES. 


E had two homes at one time during a fortnight 



* * in Hilo. It happened thus : Our first home, 
having received us and made us whole again after our 
damaging voyage in the “Kilauea,” was obliged to sur¬ 
render our room, on the next arrival of that punctual 
boat, to a party of friends who had previously engaged 
it. With true Hawaiian hospitality, our host had 
urged our longer stay in Hilo, although he knew he 
could no longer accommodate us; and all objections 
on our part were removed when we found that an ar¬ 
rangement could be made by which we could have 
rooms in another house and take our meals at his. It 
seemed no sufficient impediment to this arrangement 
that the other house was a quarter of a mile distant; 
we thought we should enjoy the walk. And there was 
such a look of welcome and rest in the new home 
which opened its arms to us, that we could not resist 
it. At the head of the street on which the two Con¬ 
gregational churches stand, set on a hill in true gospel 
fidelity to the light committed to its charge, our sec¬ 
ond home awaited us. A venerable missionary and 
his estimable wife, his life-long companion and assist- 


HILO HOMES. 


07 


ant in all his laborious work among these people, 
were the sole occupants of this large dwelling. Every 
room in it had once been occupied by the children 
of their large family; but now all had grown up and 
flown away, and they were left alone. Happily for 
them as for the people they had so long loved and 
served, two of their sons were settled in Hilo, in 
homes of their own. Every day the voices of their 
grandchildren, at a soothing distance from their own 
door, could be heard laughing or crying, according to 
the fortunes of their sport. The great mango trees, 
with their thick, dark foliage, hid their son’s house 
from view; but they could not shut out the household 
cheer which came over, not only in voices but in ac¬ 
tive little persons, who trooped through the gateway 
in search of rose-apples or after water-lemons, or with 
a sure instinct which led them to grandma’s pantry 
to taste the crisp fruit which only ripens in her 
oven. Every forenoon the older children meet in 
their grandmother’s room, and she teaches them. 
But these matters belong to a later acquaintance with 
this house. All we are supposed to know at this 
writing is, that we can open the lattice-work gate, if 
we will, stopping, as we must, to admire a tiny, pure 
white passion-flower that runs over the stone wall by 
the gateway; that we can walk up the gravel path, 
bordered all the way, at least one hundred .feet in 
length, with lilies, roses, jasmine, clumps of verbena- 


68 


ALOHA ! ” 


grass, geraniums, and other less-known garden plants ; 
that the kindest of welcomes waits for us on the 
low r er veranda, bids us rest in the dearest of old-fash¬ 
ioned New' England parlors, offers us lunch in the 
cosey dining-room, and then takes us upstairs and 
gives us the freedom of the whole second story. 
Three large rooms, looking so homelike that it seemed 
as if they must have been made and furnished in 
Worcester County, and sent to the islands by raft, 
w r ere to be all our own. Tw'o of them opened di¬ 
rectly upon a broad upper veranda. And what a 
view was there ! Below us, the garden as rich in 
trees as we have already seen it is in flowers. From 
this vantage-ground w'e could see its broad ex¬ 
panse and variegated beauty. How finely that slen¬ 
der iron-wood, which young C. insists on calling a 
tin-tree, shows against the solid mass of foliage be¬ 
yond ! Is that a tamarind with the rounded outline 
and graceful branches sloping to the ground ? Yes ; 
and those tall poles beyond, decked with green rib¬ 
bons, are bamboo. The fig-trees by the v r all are 
stuffing their purple jars with sweet preserve ; there 
are clusters of light-colored blossoms on the mango 
trees, as showy but not so graceful as the flowers of 
our own chestnut; little mandarin oranges hang like 
colored lanterns in the dusky green of their half- 
blighted leaves; the pride of India weaves its blos¬ 
soming rod over all, and all things seem to feel its 


HILO HOMES. 


69 


fairy-like spell. Is it all real, the perfect scene be-’ 
yond, or is it a piece of enchantment ? Beyond the 
garden wall the village street sloped gently to the 
sea. The square tower of the native church rose just 
high enough for picturesque effect above the great 
tamarind tree beside it; further along, the slender 
white spire of the foreign church balanced, without 
repeating, the bread-fruit tree on the opposite side of 
the road. Then came the village, set in the blue 
enamel of the great, broad sea; and between the shore 
and the horizon Cocoa-nut Island lifted its “ fronded 
palms in air.’’ 

“ At length ! ” we gasped, as our mother — I mean 
the good missionary’s wife — left us in full possession 
of these rooms, and at length we seemed to have 
found the natural home of rest. 

Nothing seemed a hardship which had brought us 
to this house, and we blessed the love which only 
ejected us from one Eden to usher us into another. 
Indeed, we should now have both, for were we. not 
going daily to our first home ? With the best of 
company there, and the perfection of quiet and soli¬ 
tude here, “ Oh ! what can we ask of thy Providence 
more?” Nothing, surely, in the way of outward 
blessings. But let that man be advised who hopes 
to find rest in his circumstances. A charming view 
only exposes you to keener agony, if in any way you 
are disturbed in its enjoyment. Of what comfort is 


70 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


a lounge when you are tired, if you cannot lie down 
on it long enough to sleep ? Not that our case was 
quite so bad as that, for in the fortnight of our stay 
we found the best rest we had known, and enjoyed 
rich draughts of beauty, hospitality, and sleep. But 
it is none the less worrying, when you are just ready 
to merge yourself, as it were, into the scene that 
charms you, to be recalled to personal consciousness 
and greedy activity by the voice of your child, insist¬ 
ing that you shall cut sugar-cane and feed him with 
it; or, just as you have made every needed arrange¬ 
ment, and with drawing-board and paint-box on the 
chair beside you, and a book to read in the intervals 
while the last tint is drying, what mortal man can 
view with mental composure the indiscriminate 
blending of all the colors by the sacrilegious fingers 
of privileged youth, and the confident appeal for 
admiration from this innocent marplot? Or, harder 
lot, suppose you belong to a certain society for the 
prevention of cruelty to dumb animals; suppose you 
have not only a vague sense that the objects of such 
a society are good, but a watchful eye, a feeling heart, 
and burning indignation whenever you meet with an 
instance of such cruelty; suppose that you sit on 
this heavenly veranda on some blissful morning, all 
nature singing psalms, and your soul responding, and 
suddenly there comes running up the street a rout of 
driven cattle, behind them rough men on horseback, 


HILO HOMES. 


71 


their spurs jingling, their lassoes swinging, and 
through clouds of dust, if the day be dry, their shrill 
voices goading the ear. Now the cattle reach the 
entrance of the neighboring field, they are hurried 
into it; bellowing and frightened they scatter over 
its broad expanse of green. Soon one is singled 
from the herd. In the further corner of the green 
stands a very gallows, only it is far less merciful than 
the gallows raised for man. To this place of execu¬ 
tion the cow or ox is driven or dragged. Then skil¬ 
ful hands throw the staggering lasso, and with horns 
and hoofs all caught and fastened to the dreadful 
posts, the Creature lies there, hot, helpless, terrified, 
awaiting the deliberate murder, not without torture 
often, which these native butchers inflict. I never 
saw the climax of this bloody persecution, because I 
would not follow it up and look. But not so the 
most consistent of women ; with costly loyalty to her 
own sense of duty and to the home society of which 
she is a zealous member, she was in at the death, 
viewing it from a window of the inner room, and 
returning to the family circle with a terrible resolu¬ 
tion in her altered face. Heaven was no longer 
heaven to her. Alas, alas! how can it ever be to any 
of us, even if we reach there, so long as wrong and 
cruelty and sin exist ! That day at dinner Madame 
refused beef. The next morning, at breakfast, she 
gently caressed the bit of steak that was served her, 


72 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


but would have none of it. She had formed the 
dire resolution, in a land where beef is almost the 
only meat, to eat no more beef in Hilo ; and she kept 
it. I am told that this is the common way of 
butchering in the Islands. We were shocked to hear 
of worse cruelties than these among people whose 
Christian training ought to have borne better fruits; 
e. g., the hamstringing of cattle in the great pastures, 
and leaving them in this agonizing state several days 
before despatching them. As for the natives, they 
are notoriously cruel to the nobler animals, letting 
their horse go bruised, while they will pet their dirty 
pigs and dirtier dogs more than they pet their chil¬ 
dren. Clearly, the doctrinal Christianity in which 
they have been well schooled needs supplementing 
with some of the practical applications of its spirit 
in the common relationships of life. 

I believe I have already spoken of the need and 
opportunity among these natives of industrial train¬ 
ing. This will be a good place to say that many 
years ago this want was clearly seen, and in a measure 
provided for, by the sagacious missionary at whose 
house we are staying. Father Lyman, as he is well 
called by everybody here, has maintained a school for 
native young men in Hilo for more than forty years, 
and always the aim of fitting the scholars for useful 
and honorable toil has been kept in view. 

As we sit on our piazza in the early evening and 


HILO HOMES. 


73 


feel the stillness which follows the last song of the 
birds among the mangoes, suddenly, like a whole 
troop of whippoorwills, the flutes of the students 
strike up. Think of a dozen or twenty flutes all 
warbling together! They choose these instruments 
because they are the cheapest. The effect of this 
music heard from a distance is very pleasing, but 
when the players favor you with a serenade upon the 
lower veranda, a little is enough. Sometimes the 
flutes give place to singing, and then a very cataract 
of sound pours forth. We recall a gala night when 
the students came down to entertain the company 
with their music, and it really seemed as if Niagara 
were thundering away on the front steps. 

It rains more easily in Hilo than anywhere else in 
the known world. We had not taken this into the 
account at its full figure when we arranged to live 
and dine in homes so far apart. In order to reach the 
annual rainfall of one hundred and eighty inches, it 
is necessary that some rain should fall nearly every 
day; and yet there are days when it seems as if the 
entire demand had been met in twenty-four hours. 
We no longer demurred about the story of the flood. 
Forty days of such rain would overwhelm a world. 
When these showers came at meal-time, it required 
some planning to navigate our double housekeeping. 
Not that either of us was afraid of rain. We were 
neither sugar nor salt; but we were flesh and. blood, 


74 


“ ALOHA!” 


a much more intricate and susceptible compound; 
and sometimes, when it rained so that even a fish 
wouldn’t have ventured out, Madame and the boy 
would remain at home and allow me, arrayed in a 
raven-like costume of india-rubber, to bring them their 
fare. In pleasant weather, i. e. when it did not rain 
more than a bucketful a minute, we marched in glad 
procession to our meals, — the brave mother leading 
the way through mud and mire, impervious in water¬ 
proof, and I meekly dragging the boy in a baby- 
wagon, which with greater meekness he acceptedi 
Snugly tucked away under shawls, and wholly covered 
by the top further extended by an old umbrella, he 
made the trip in safety, and “ turned up smiling ” at 
the close. Only it must be admitted, in favor of his 
manhood, that he always begged to be taken out be¬ 
fore reaching the front door, and looked unutterably 
disgusted whenever he was landed on the piazza with 

that very unmartial cloak, his mother’s cape, around 

• 

him. Let no man be kept from Hilo by the stories he 
may hear about its rainfall. Doubtless they are all 
true; but the natural inference of people accustomed to 
rain in other places is far from true. There is some¬ 
thing exceptional in this rain of Hilo. It is never 
cold, hardly damp even. They do say that clothes 
will dry in it. It is liquid sunshine, coming down in 
drops instead of atmospheric waves. 

I can think of nothing that describes it so well as 


HILO HOMES. 


75 


the story told me by my truthful sister. A polite 
young fellow, as society counts politeness, greeted her 
one day in the midst of a pouring rain with the con¬ 
ventional salutation, “ A very pleasant day, Mrs. B.” 
“ It rains hard,” she said, with her usual candor. 
“ Yes, oh yes,” he answered, “ but it is kind of mild, 
moist, and agreeable.” That is Hilo exactly. Laugh 
if you will, and beg to be excused, you will miss 
the sweetest spot on earth if you do not go there. 
All our embarrassment about the rain was only sauce 
to the fish. Life might have grown a little tame but 
for this piquant item of risk and adventure. Besides, 
we were never in any troublesome dilemma. Sup¬ 
pose it should rain too solidly to admit of our going 
abroad, the only penalty was one good entertainment 
replaced by another. Again and again the little 
dining-room at the foot of our stairway stopped us on 
our way to one or another meal, and shared its sweet¬ 
ness with us. If only the preserve had been quince 
instead of mango, we might easily have thought that 
we were in the old house at the home farm again, 
with the wisest of grandmothers and best of grand¬ 
fathers presiding at the table. 

There is a simplicity in ripe old age as winning, 
if not as captivating, as that of childhood. We 
never tired of listening to the narratives of mission¬ 
ary experience which our venerable friends, Father 
Lyman and his wife, detailed to us. Seated in the 


76 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


folding-door parlors, on a stormy evening, the astral 
lamp, which came over not exactly in the “ May¬ 
flower,” but in some lineal descendant of that free¬ 
born craft, shedding its cheerful light around, we 
read and talked together of Nature and Provi¬ 
dence and their, deep harmonies. I remember we 
read an article on “ Faith Cures,” written by the 
Doctor’s son, exploring with brave common-sense and 
medical knowledge, combined with Christian rever¬ 
ence and discrimination, these modern miracles of 
healing. From this we naturally branched off into 
subjects that had been common thinking-ground for 
all of us, and about which we had come to seemingly 
opposite conclusions. But no bigotry marred the dis¬ 
cussion or left its condemnation among our memories 
of that night. A little “ Life of Daniel Wheeler,” an 
English missionary who had once visited the island, 
contained a curious account of the deliverance he 
experienced from a terrible simoom in the Southern 
Pacific. We took up the book, and read how a school 
of blackfish or small whales came up around the 
tempest-tossed vessel just in time to break the force 
of the waves. Wheeler regarded these fish as sent 
by God for the express purpose of saving his life. 
The natives in this neighborhood believe that Dr. 
Coan’s prayers prevented the great lava^flow of 1855 
which was coming in the direction of Hilo from over¬ 
whelming the town. I refer to this belief, and ask 


HILO HOMES. 


77 


about it. “ We had a special meeting of prayer at 
the time of the great flow of 1855,” the Doctor said, 
“ but it did not stop for several months after that.” 
And then, to ^how me how he felt about it, he gave 
me this story of his house-building. He had planned 
for some time to have his house enlarged. In this 
remote place it takes a long time to get the necessary 
lumber and other material together, and last, but not 
least, to secure the services of the carpenters. The 
men and material were all ready, when the appear¬ 
ance of the fiery flood on Mauna Loa, taking the very 
direction of Hilo, seemed to make house-repairing a 
doubtful investment. The river of burning lava came 
daily nearer and nearer, slowly but surely, down the 
gradual slope of the high mountain. If it continued 
to flow until it reached the sea, as many of the flows 
have done, the town must be' overwhelmed. “ What 
will you do about it ? ” said the head carpenter. “ I 
will release you from the contract, if you say so.” 
But, said the Doctor, I told them “they might go 
ahead.” The dry way in which he told the story, and 
the twinkle in his deep, dark eye, were very sugges¬ 
tive of the practical, working faith which has so 
distinguished his whole life-work. 

Then we had whole pages from the queer, pathetic, 
toilsome, half-paid,yet all-rewarded missionary life they 
had led together. The goodwife told her story of how 
she first taught the natives music. They seemed to 


78 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


have no natural ear or knowledge of the first principles 
of music. But she undertook the difficult task of sooth¬ 
ing the savage breast before the savage ear had been 

O O O 

attuned to concord of sweet sound$. Her scanty 
store of musical learning, brought from a New Eng¬ 
land singing-school, seemed little capital to begin 
with. But she made the most of it. She taught 
them their “ fa-sol-la,” until they caught the secret, 
and once learned, they took the greatest delight in 
their new accomplishment. Every new musical in¬ 
strument that came to the island was like the visit of 
an angel to them. They 'were eager to master each 
manipulation. A bass-viol, which arrived one day in 
a whaling-ship, was an object of intense interest and 
desire. She never played a viol in her life, but she 
taught them to play. Since then, they have learned 
to use many different instruments. Then we com¬ 
muned together of the grand endeavor of their lives to 
plant Christian principles and sentiments among these 
easily impressible but hardly consistent people ; of the 
discouragements arising more often from the under¬ 
mining influence of careless or ugly and degraded 
white men,' than from native incapacity or ill-will ; 
of their long and never-ceasing struggle with these 
•enemies and their perverts; of the evident decrease 
of missionary influence with the rising generation of 
Hawaiian youth, its causes and its certain effects, —.of 
all these things we talked together, they with the 


HILO HOMES. 


79 


natural concern of parents watching their children’s 
growth and entrance upon an independent career, and 
we with the fresh enthusiasm of visitors to whom 
every thing was new, and every thing connected with 
these excellent people especially interesting. With 
many others of the same devoted type of Christian 
character, they had left their home and country to 
carry the faith they believed and trusted to the isles 
that were waiting for it. They had been young, but now 
were old. The slender salary on which they had lived 
and reared -a large family could not have left any thing 
for the dependence of old age. The little annuity still 
given them by the association which sent them forth 
with the promise of better things, had been reduced 
that very year. But there was no sign of need in 
this house. If economy lived there, so did hospi¬ 
tality, and the latter was supreme. The private affairs 
of my entertainers are, of course, not my business or 
another’s. But I venture to dwell on this question of 
the position and support of the resident missionaries, 
because so much ungenerous comment has been passed 
upon the comfort which their homes display. The 
very people who have made the missionaries’ houses 
their homes, and enjoyed their free entertainment, will, 
on their return to the States, speak of the missionary’s 
lot as unduly comfortable and prosperous, and thus 
repay the generosity of their island hosts with cruel 
injustice. Time and time again have these good peo- 


80 


“ ALOHA! ” 


pie given shelter for weeks and months even to perfect 
strangers visiting Hilo, and refused just payment, 
simply out of sensitiveness to the misconceptions or 
false representations of the cavilling world. 

It took us some time # to comprehend the half-apolo¬ 
getic way in which some of the missionaries accounted 
for the beauty and comfort of their homes. This 
land was a gift from some grateful chief; this house 
built with “ our own hands; ” the gardens were God’s 
gift, and needed no extenuation, but the nice rug on 
the parlor floor must be understood to be a present 
from a man whose children had received their school¬ 
ing free of charge in the missionary’s family; the 
pictures were all home products or friendly remem¬ 
brances ; nearly every chair and table had come from 
some kindly donor far away. At length it dawned 
upon us that there were people in the world mean 
enough to grudge the missionaries these little com¬ 
forts and adornments. The very people who had 
sent them out would be the first to detect ■ the least 
taint of worldliness in them. I remember hearing in 
Honolulu of a virtuous home patroness of the mission 
writing to the wife of one of the ministers, and 
urging her not to spend her time taking pleasure- 
trips from island to island. Unmerciful Ocean! toss 
that woman awhile in a wretched coasting schooner 
— the only medium of inter-island communication at 
that time — in the Hawaiian channel, and let her call 
that pleasuring, if she can. 


HILO HOMES. 


81 


An evening spent in onr other Hilo home, although 
very different from the one just described, was fully 
as delightful. When the hour succeeding dinner was 
clear, as it often was, we would stroll through the 
village to Wailuku bridge and watch the deep, clear 
water near its junction with the sea. High banks 
plumed with the richly variegated Sadleria and hung 
with the streaming Nephrol epis exaltata stood on 
either side. Waterfalls half hidden by the dense 
foliage leaped like daring swimmers into the river 
and disappeared. Upstream the cascade echoed the 
roaring of the sea below. Native horsemen dashed 
along the road to the bridge, then slackened their 
pace to keep the law, and, once across, galloped up 
the hill on the other side and disappeared. Strange 
trees stood black against a sky still bright with the 
afterglow of sunset, and far away, tree-like in form, 
cloudlike in substance, the smoke of Maim a Loa’s 
summit fire could be clearly seen. Later in the 
evening we shall see it from the upper veranda shin¬ 
ing red against a darkened sky. 

But meantime all the doors and windows of the pret¬ 
tiest and most homelike of parlors are open. From the • 
dainty rose in its crystal vase on the escritoire to the 
comfortable chair in the corner, you feel that taste has 
wedded thrift, and both are keeping house together 
here. The piano is open. Why cannot we have some 

music ? We can. The sisters play duets, then the 

6 


82 


“ ALOHA!” 


matrons sing, so tunefully and with such true con¬ 
sent, that it seems as if they must always have sung 
together. Then Maestro (that means our host) bash¬ 
fully but courageously handles his violin, and “ Bravo! 
bravo! ” say we all, as the king and queen of instru¬ 
ments, the violin and piano, play together. Per¬ 
chance some friend from one of the eleven other 
white families in Hilo may happen to come in. 
There are just twelve of them in the village. Then 
another voice in the song or another listener in the 
audience is the only change, unless, preferring con¬ 
versation, the company breaks into social speech; 
then the evening is gone before we fairly know that 
it is going, and we find our way to bed. For a tired 
man, there is just society enough in Hilo; and it is 
wonderful how complete and widely representative 
that little social circle is. In spite of the seeming 
profanity of giving publicity to a community which 
is more like one large family than a number of dis¬ 
tinct families, I must pay my debt of tribute to all 
the Hilo homes that gave us a happy entrance into 
their communicable joys. The good physician, the 
devoted missionary, the wise teacher, the devout 
preacher and friendly pastor, the sober judge, the en¬ 
terprising cattle-raiser, the able public officer, the 
gentlemanly shop-keeper, the planter, the lawyer, the 
surveyor, the laborer,— all are here; and when to these 
and their interesting well-bred families are added the 


HILO HOMES. 


83 


visitors from the other islands and from other coun¬ 
tries, who come bringing their news and interests 
and the literature of all lands, every element of good 
society is present here. “ See Naples, and then 
die ! ” said somebody. “ See Hilo, and live for ever ! ” 
say I. • . 



84 


ALOHA ! ” 


KILAUEA. 


T HIRTY miles of horseback riding on a fair 
road make a pleasant constitutional; but thirty 
miles of churning — call it not riding — up the long 


ascent which leads from Hilo to the volcano will try 


the soundest constitution. I took it under the happiest 
auspices, fitted out by that prince of hosts and pro¬ 
viders, the sheriff of Hilo, and accompanied by Rev. 
Mr. Forbes, every inch a gentleman and every nail a 
man. Mr. Forbes had left study and garden, in both 
of which he was an active worker, to go with me to 
Kilauea. Born and bred in the islands, he was mas¬ 
ter of the Hawaiian language, familiar with the peo¬ 
ple and thgir ways, and at home throughout the 
country. No better guide or more congenial com¬ 
panion could have been offered me ; and, to make his 
kindness only more evident, he had given me the hos¬ 
pitality of his pulpit the Sunday before, and counted 
my service there a return, in effect, if not in kind, for 
his companionship to the volcano. 



We started immediately after breakfast on Monday 


morning, our horses freshly shod for the journey so 
trying to horses’ soles, firmly saddled and bridled, 


KILAUEA. 


85 


and around their necks the invariable rope, a useful 
if not ornamental lei , which takes the place of a 
halter in this region. Strong thongs of hide held our 
luggage in rear and front of saddle ; rubber leggings 
defended our nether extremities from the anticipated 
mud of the first stage of our journey, and the rain 
which was sure to fall any or every hour of the day; 
and a rubber overcoat was the uppermost thing in our 
pack, ready for use at any moment. A pair of spurs 
too blunt to be really cruel, and yet large and threat¬ 
ening enough to inspire speed, tinkled at my heels. 
Thus accoutred, we plunged in. A lively dash 
through the little town was all the really enjoyable 
riding vouchsafed us. After that, came three or four 
miles of swamp, hidden and aggravated by the rank 
Hilo grass; then a four-mile ride through a tropical 
jungle and forest, and then unmitigated lava in sav¬ 
age undress all the way to Kilauea. If this trip had 
been invented by some cunning philosopher, to de¬ 
monstrate the predominance of mind over matter, it 
could not have been better contrived for the purpose. 
Fascinated, absorbed, delighted with the novelty and 
beauty of the country, our minds hardly noticed, ex¬ 
cepting in moments of unusual bumping or bruising, 
what happened to our bodies. It was my first ex¬ 
perience of a really tropical wood; and whatever 
expectations had been excited by reading and pictures 
were fully realized in this forenoon’s ride through the 


86 


ALOHA ! ” 


Hilo forest. Ohias, with their fiery tongues of blos¬ 
som ; bread-fruit trees, as rich and dark in foliage as 
the Magnolia grandiflorct ; lauhalas, with their open, 
fan-shaped clusters of leaves; screw-palms, boring 
their way upwards through the crowding forest; ferns 
of every name and form, from the big pulu tree-fern 
and the parasitic bird’s-nest to the graceful stag’s- 
horn, overrunning all the underbrush; and countless 
asplenia in every crevice of the woods not filled with 
larger growth. 

I saw bananas, too, planted here by some thrifty hand 
perhaps, and their great fronds, like monstrous kannas, 
blended happily with the wild vegetation about them. 
Even more than the variety of the growth and its rich¬ 
ness of verdure, the fulness of it amazed me. The for¬ 
est seemed to grudge us the narrow horse-path by which 
we made our way through it. A single step on either 
side plunged us into a tangle of prostrate trunks and 
branches bound down by chains and cords of creepers 
and Hues, which forbade further progress in that direc¬ 
tion. The great wood was a riot of vegetation, in which 
the dead and the living were inextricably blended. If 
any moral is to be drawn from this suggestive forest, 

I think it must be the supremacy of life over death. 
The two seemed to be wrestling together there in 
a struggle for the upper hand. And need I say 
how gloriously life comes off victor. It is life which 
aspires in these mammoth trees, tingles in the ruddy 


KILAUEA. 


87 


tips of the young shoots of the ohia, rounds into nu¬ 
tritious fulness in the bread-fruit, hangs its ripening 
clusters on the banana, and rides rampant in vines 
and running ferns over all the spoils of death. Let 
no one fancy — ministers as we are, and given to mor¬ 
alizing — that any such homily was preached by us, 
or even thought of, as we bounded over the wood¬ 
land path. A truce to all professional thoughts! 
This is our vacation. And yet I do remember with 
something of conscientious regret that my Orthodox 
brother and myself were guilty of some talking on “the 
inspiration of the Bible ,’ 1 “ the ways of salvation,” and 
the rest, as we travelled in single file that day. Yes, 
and we paid for it at the time by losing one of our 
shawls in the neglect of the discussion, and having to 
ride back a mile or two to regain it. But once out 
of the woods, the way grows too toilsome for further 
conferences of this kind. A grove of coco palms 
wave their farewell to us as we push up the wilder¬ 
ness of lava which is to be our pathway now until we 
reach the volcano. Soon we shall pass a plantation 
of ti trees, whose leaves are the favorite wrappers 
for Hawaiian products. There are signs of hab¬ 
itation, too, in this seemingly uninhabitable region. 
Now and then a grass house appears, with cane-fields 
behind it; one or two natives pass us; and here 
come some children, and in their hands — of all 
things in the world — school-books ! Our thoughts 


88 


ALOHA!” 


go back to the little country schoolhouse overlooking 
the farms in Worcester County, where the boys and 
girls of the former generation of New-Englanders 
walked two or three miles a day to get their learning. 
And here in the heart of Hawaii — thanks to the de¬ 
votion and energy of some of these very boys and 
girls, since grown to manhood and womanhood — the 
. same hopeful sign and surety of Christian civilization 
greet me. Arrived at the half-way house, a grass hut 
of limited size but unlimited hospitality, we share the 
keeper’s noontide meal, redeemed from utter poverty 
by a dessert of sugar-cane and oranges. A wild goose, 
crippled by domestication, — the only visible live¬ 
stock, — goes through the motions of paddling on the 
shining and smooth polioehoe rock, which sheds every 
drop of water rained upon it as quickly as the goose’s 
back itself. 

Oh for his wings, or some proportionally large and 
strong, to take our belabored bodies the rest of the 
way to the crater-house! But wings cannot be had 
for the asking, and few of us earn them in this earthly 
pilgrimage. Our allowance of resting-time being 
over, we mount and pursue our climbing, slipping, 
bounding way. No delighted taste or mental preoc¬ 
cupation can dull our sense of touch to the imposi¬ 
tions it has suffered and must suffer with increasing 
injury. But why enlarge upon the rigor of the road? 
That is no more than we bargained for when we un- 


KILAUEA. 


09 


dertook the trip. That, like every thing else, may 
become easy by use and custom. Here comes a tall 
horseman down the mountain at this very moment, — 
a man of threescore years, if we may judge from his 
wrinkled face and gray hair. An ample poncho 
hangs over him : he asks no other protection. He 
keeps his horse going at a pace which will take him 
to Hilo in half the time we should need for the de¬ 
scent. He has come from his ranche, eight or ten 
miles above Kilauea, and makes nothing of the trip. 
Neither do his native workmen, who come down from 
their high dairy every week, bringing fresh butter. I 
wonder they do not start with fresh cream: it would 
be admirably churned when they arrived at Hilo, and 
thus the agitation of the passage might be utilized. 
We reached the crater-house at last as twilight was 
deepening into night, the darkness increased by a 
thick rain. Far away, looking like the glare of a 
large iron-foundry, were the fires of the living vol¬ 
cano. It was not so very startling. Of the two, I 
am sure I was more impressed, at that moment, by 
the comfortable domestic fires blazing in the great, 
open fireplace of the reception-room of the crater- 
house, than by the murky glow of Kilauea’s burning 
lake, five or six miles away. Three or four officers 
and midshipmen of H. M. S. Myrmidon,” then at 
anchor in Byron’s Bay, were chatting by the fireside. 
They had come up by way of Puna, and had already 


90 


“ ALOHA!” 


been down into the crater. We found them lively 

«/ 

and intelligent companions. Making room for us by 
the fire, they beguiled the half-hour of drying and 
warming in which we indulged before supper with 
descriptions of their visit to the burning lake. They 
were strongly tempted to go down again by night; 
but the darkness, the rain, and the absence of the 
guide discouraged them. Every few minutes, moved 
by a common impulse, we would go to the window 
fronting the volcano, and look for some new develop¬ 
ment in the changeable monster. Little appeared, 
however. The red cloud in the distance was always 
there, with a streak of yellow under it, which seemed 
to be in motion. That was the lake. In the black¬ 
ness of the abyss belo^v us, ruddy seams would come 
and go, and sometimes slender threads of orange 
would run through the darkness. This w T as caused 
by fresh lava bursting through the cracks of the su¬ 
perincumbent crust. Mist and steam rose in clouds 
from the rain-deluged expanse of heated lava. 

To one unacquainted with the splendors of a near 
view of the lake, these obstacles of distance and rain 
were rather cooling to the enthusiasm. In the midst 
of the mingled talk and observation, the door of the 
house was thrown open, and there in the opening, 
illumined by the glow r of our blazing fire, and set off 
by the darkness of the night behind him, stood the 
little commander of the “ Myrmidon,” as jolly and 


KILAUEA. 


91 


bright a brand as was ever caught from the burning. 
He had been to the fire-pit by night, and came back 
dripping with rain and overflowing with, wonder. 
Hale-mau-mau was in splendid action. We could 
have no conception of it from the house. It would 
surpass our expectations on the morrow, if its pres¬ 
ent activity continued. And so our reassuring com- 
mander talked on, reviving our hopes of a sight on 
the morrow which should make the toils of to-day a 
slight matter in comparison. 

The next morning was clear. It showed us exactly 
where we were, — in a large grass house not far from 
the edge of a hole in the world, from five hundred to 
a thousand feet deep and nine miles in circumference. 
The blackness of freshly cooled lava was below, in one 
great lake of fire-ice; — to make a daring but not 
unnatural compound. Cooled water and cooled lava 
take on similar forms, and the grouping of these up- 
heaved masses of lava-rock was like the surface of a 
great ice-floe. A cliff all around the crater, in places 
exactly perpendicular, — the fragments falling from it, 
and usually accumulated at the foot of such cliffs in 
sloping insteps of debris, having been swallowed up 
and melted in the once molten flood. In the far cor¬ 
ner of the great crater, a cloud which no sunshine 
can disperse; under it, the fire unquenchable. 

I wonder if I am alone in the impulse I have to turn 
away from the object I most desire to sec; that is, 


92 


ALOHA ! ” 


if it is a great object. I had the same feeling at Xi- 
agara. It seizes me at Kilauea. I am in no haste to 
go. Rather would I turn away and wait. But Cap¬ 
tain H-and Mr. Forbes and the hardened guide 

are waiting for me. I must go. The preliminary 
tumble of six hundred feet is calculated to shake the 
sentiment well out of one ; and following that, fur¬ 
ther on, another, only less, descent completes the dis- 
enthralment. We are now walking over a crust of 
such very patent fact and thinly veiled reality of fiery 
trial that we need the confidence inspired by our 
guide’s unconcern, and the assurance that in all the 
numerous visits to the volcano there has never been a 
serious accident. It seems incredible that there is no 
danger in such wanderings over a floor which has 
been broken up within the week —yes, within twenty- 
four hours — by the force of undermining fire and 
flood. What certainty can there be that the very 
path which we are taking may not crack and bulge 
with liquid lava this very moment? 

Only an inch or two below the dull, black surface, 
these blocks glow like heated coal. My walking- 
stick kindles into flame the moment it enters one 
of these cracks. We actually cross streams of lava 
which were pressed out and cooled only yesterday. 
In places there are openings through which the un¬ 
derground rivers of molten lava may be seen. Our 
guide took us to one of these holes, and, looking into 



KILAUEA. 


93 


it, we could watch the torrent of melted rock pouring 
like water from some unseen upper lake to the region 
below our very feet; its mass a yellow flood, its spray 
a flaming gas. And still we went on, fascinated by 
the beautiful peril of the place. Lava in all its va¬ 
ried forms stretched around us. Great coils, like 
ships’ hawsers, twisted and spun in what intermi¬ 
nable walk below us ! Fold on fold, as smooth as 
finest satin! Sulphur-tinted scales as gorgeous as 
the parrot’s plumage! Blocks as perfectly quarried 
as if cut and dressed by the stone-mason. Caves 
where the lava, cooling as it dripped, has fretted 
the roof with Venetian red or dull gray pendants. 
Glittering crusts, so light and porous that they 
seem like petrified sponges, with every color of 
the rainbow caught and prisoned in them. Surely 
lava is the veritable Proteus, and in all its changes it 
is always unmistakable lava and nothing else. What 
else could coil and crack and shimmer and gloom and 
melt and hold anenrun and stand still, and make and 
destroy the world arottnd it in such seemingly indif¬ 
ferent fashion, as this sea of lava on whose frozen 
waves we are walking with a faith in Nature which 
Peter had not in his Lord. And now we are nearing 
the living fountain of this great, black sea. Cones 
dripping sulphur and spouting steam and fire appear. 
We follow our guide around a brook of lava too hot 
and fresh for us to wade through it. 


94 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


A steady lift in the surface of the crater. We are 
coming to the lake. A dull roar as of a lion over the 
bank! A gust of hot sulphurous air in our faces! 
One more upward step to where our guide is stand¬ 
ing, and Hale-mau-mau lies before us, — a lake of 
molten lava one hundred and fifty feet across, and 
twenty feet below the edge on which we stand. It 
looked gray as we saw it in the full daylight, and at 
first sight it might have been taken for a sea of melted 
lead; but in its tidal motion towards the southwest, 
either the wind or its own inner agony roughened its 
surface, and every ripple bled. Nothing is or can be 
as it has been painted ; least of all this ever-changing 
volcano. Nature always surprises, but seldom dis¬ 
appoints us. I had looked for fury, tempest, frenzy, 
in this lake of fire. I found a terrible composure. 
Only in one place on the opposite shore, where the 
sea seemed to break, was there any audible or visible 
outburst. 

There a lateral fountain flung itself thirty feet into 
the air; and, cooled and winnowed by the passing 
breeze, scattered shining black grains of lava and the 
dry, brittle chaff, called Pele’s hair, far and wide. 
But even this wild fountain seemed perfectly con¬ 
trolled. It only added to the impression of power 
in reserve and under full control, with which Hale- 
mau-mau affected me. Am I putting the gloss of my 
own faith upon this tremendous Apocalypse of Nature, 


KILAUEA. 


95 


or is it true that all these phials and trumpets; these 
“ lightnings, thunderings, and voices these “ breast¬ 
plates of fire, and jacinth, and brimstone; ” this “ wine 
of the wrath of God, which is poured out without 
mixture into the cup of his indignation ; ” this “ tor¬ 
ment whose smoke ascendeth for ever and ever ; ” this 
“ lake of fire and brimstone ; ” all the palpable horrors 
of this unsearchable world in which we live,—are held 
in the hollow of God’s hand, and controlled by his 
all-perfect and all-loving will? Not even by the 
side of the neighboring lake of Kilauea, the second 
lake to which we passed from the subdued grandeur 
of Hale-mau-mau, was this faith disturbed. And 
surely if any thing could shake one’s trust in the iden¬ 
tity of the God of Nature and the God of Grace, it 
would be Kilauea as I saw it that morning. Three 
fire-fountains were flinging shreds of gory lava thirty, 
forty feet into the air, and all the while a feral roar 
seemed to attest the presence of the great dragon, 
“ that old serpent ” of the Revelations. But he was 
bound, and a seal was set upon his imprisonment. 
You felt it in every heave and outburst of the 
molten sea. We watched for an hour its gray billows 
dashing into fire-spray against the black shore, and 
throwing flecks of lava over the adjacent field, and no 
sense of danger or thought of fear attended us. A 
pronounced crack all around the rim of Kilauea, about 
three feet from the edge, warned us not to step be- 


96 


ALOHA ! ” 


yond its death-line. That broken edge falls into the 
fiery abyss from time to time, and goes to the burning. 

The nearest approach to an accident ever known 

here was when Mr. A-and some friends from 

Onomea overstepped the line to look more directly into 
the pit. They had just stepped back from their peril¬ 
ous exploration when the shelf on which they had 
been standing fell into the burning lake. More pru¬ 
dent, we keep on the safer side, and watch the play 
of the fire-fountains, fascinated by their novelty and 
splendor. Just before we came away, a mighty 
commotion began in the centre of the sea. Its sur¬ 
face was upheaved, and the very mountain seemed to 
shake with the “ swelling thereof.” Slowly, delib¬ 
erately, as if with settled purpose, the movement was 
begun, and then, with one tremendous spring, the 
fountain shot into the air a column of blood-red lava, 
thirty feet in height, showering burning pebbles upon 
the surrounding lake, and a spray like spun glass 
upon the neighboring rocks. For a few minutes it 
stood blowing like a whale, where it had risen, and 
then it wallowed slowly to the shore, leaving the gray 
sea behind it lashed into bloody foam. When v r e 
turned away, it was still roaring and fuming under 
the forbidding cliff which shut it in. But it w r as only 
biding its time. That very night, looking from our 
distant post of observation, the volcano-house, we 
could distinctly see the rushing of the uplifted flood 



KILAUEA. 


9 / 


from shore to shore, and the leap of the fiery monsters 
from their imprisonment. 

On our way back we picked beautiful specimens of 
lava, were overtaken by a rain-storm, and reached 
the little inn with our clothing thoroughly soaked. 
But nothing could dampen the glow of our impres¬ 
sion of Kilauea, the transcendent volcano of the 
world; Kilauea, the “ Only.” 

The commander took a sulphur bath, warranted, 
on the homoeopathic principle, to cure all the ills and 
disagreements of volcanic travel. Our investigation 
of the primitive bath-house and its ingenious arrange¬ 
ment for curing bruises by substituting scalding did 
not encourage a resort to its healing ministries. The 
device is no more than a box over a sulphur steam 
crack. In this box the bather shuts himself, only 
keeping his head above the cover, and lets the sulphur 
steam slowly parboil him. Whether the process is 
really a relief or not, or whether, like the victims of 
some other showmen, the patients report a cure for 
the sake of enticing others into their misery, I cannot 
say. The commander declared himself quite restored 
by it, and followed us to the great sulphur banks 
afterwards as curiously as if he had never heard of 
sulphur before. If we had not liked our commander 
so thoroughly, we might have smiled a little at his 
expense now and then. His stature was like that of 
Zaccheus, and he probably weighed less than a hun- 

7 



98 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


dred pounds. To see him following our native guide, 
a magnificent giant, six feet high and upwards, and 
splendidly proportioned, stepping gingerly in his foot¬ 
steps, holding up all he could, and saying to his big 
• leader, “ I step more heavily than you,” was as pretty 
a picture of English self-consequence as one often sees. 

That evening the lakes were in splendid commo¬ 
tion. We longed to visit them again, but could get 
no guide or companion, as it was raining heavily all 
the evening. Later it cleared, and we could see the 
intense glow of Kilauea, and high up on Mauna Loa’s 
summit the graceful pillar of fire-tinted smoke, which 
had been visible, more or less distinctly, for the pre¬ 
vious ten days. The desire to ascend the great dome 
/ 

and look down upon its rare eruption was not en¬ 
couraged either by the season or my friends, and' we 
were compelled to be content with Mauna Loa’s lower 
crater, the lake we had just visited. The commander, 
Mr. F-, and myself, spent the evening hilari¬ 

ously, reading the notes made by previous travellers 
in the visitor’s book, and some Hawaiian letters of 
Mark Twain, which were pasted into the same book. 
We found some amusement, considerable interest, 
much disgust, and some information, in the comments 
of the visitors. But in Mr. Clements’s inimitable let¬ 
ters we found unbounded merriment and food for 
laughter. 

o 

A wholesome alterative it proved, after the awful 



KILAUEA. 


99 


impressions of the day; and we all slept and dreamed 
the better for it. We woke to a sunrise only equalled 
in my remembrance by one I saw on Mont Blanc. 
There stood Mauna Loa, with a rosy tint upon its 
cloudy cap, which, as we watched, moved slowly 
down, covering the whole of the mountain side, and 
disappeared at length in the great black pit that lay 
below us. Mauna Kea’s clustering, snow-capped 
peaks could also be seen. Kilauea smoked gloomily 
afar off. Steam rose from innumerable cracks in the 
drear expanse that intervened, and not far from the 
very brink on which we stood, the shining trail of a 
new flow of lava which had gushed out during the 
night was clearly visible. 

At nine o’clock we bade farewell to all this great¬ 
ness, and started for home. The “ right little island ” 
commander, with his guide, followed or accompanied 
us from the start. And many a good talk did we 
have together of wanderings in othei’ lands and over 
other seas. 

The commander had been everywhere, and every¬ 
where he had studied country and people with that 
English thoroughness which is so satisfactory in its 
results and recollections. After all, a little of Old 
England goes farther than a great deal of the other 
European nationalities. After visiting them all, I felt 
thankful that we were of English blood and antece¬ 
dents. England is a good country to have come away 


100 


“ ALOHA!” 


from. And is not Hawaii a good country to have 
come to? We thought so, at least, on that fair day 
in February, when, with sure-footed horses under us; 
the unclouded blue of the sky above ; fresh mountain 
breezes keeping us cool; palm trees fanning the placid 
earth ; the woods calling us to their unfailing shade ; 
the sea murmuring a welcome home; Hilo, with its 
refreshing bath, its nourishing fare, its myrtles and 
lilies and roses, and, best of all, its true-hearted 
friends waiting for us, — we went back from our visit 
to Kilauea, the ninth wonder of the world. 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 


101 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA,” 


u 


T 0, thank you ; I hate ferns.” I had proposed 
^ ^ that we all go to the upper veranda and spend 

the forenoon in studying Miss R-s magnificent 

collection of ferns. This was the response I got from 
one of my fair company. The moral courage it took 
to utter such a sentiment in Hawaii can only be 
known by one who has been there. As ignorance of 
famous people elsewhere argues yourself unknown, so 
indifference to ferns in Hawaii puts you beyond the 
pale of gentle society. By one bold sentence, there¬ 
fore, Miss Clara made herself an exile from the very 
heart of Hilo; and, as if realizing her expulsion from 
the garden, she caught up the bit of sewing which 
served her so often as a defence from disagreeable 
projects, and fled to the parlor. There she sat, per-, 
fectly content, if ferns grew in Eden, as may well be 
supposed, since they are the very beginnings of vege¬ 
tation, to be outside. Shall I confess to a temptation 
to follow her example ? Her moral heroism was not 
the only attraction beside her good company. At this 
safe distance, and after the ample expiation I have 
since made for the offence, let me admit that there 



102 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


was a latent sympathy within me with the sentiment 
she had expressed.* Those large domains of art and 
science which furnish so much of interesting fact and 
illustration to the reading and conversation of other 
countries, are almost exclusively occupied in the Ha¬ 
waiian Islands by ferns. You make or receive an 
evening call, and, in place of the latest discovery by 

Darwin or Huxley, you are told that Miss B- 

has found a new fern. Instead of going to the art gal¬ 
lery or the atheneeum, you go to Mr. Hitchcock’s to 
sec his pressed ferns. Every house has its album of 
rare specimens, all nicely mounted, as they say, — a 
good expression for the ubiquitous hobby-horse. On 
all occasions Filix, the fern, is trotted out for your 
weary admiration. What makes the burden more 
exasperating is the scholarly knowledge which many 
of these people have on this subject, and the embar¬ 
rassing way in which they assume equal knowledge 
on your part. Your contented ignorance rebels at 
this constant forgetfulness of its rights. Cumbrous 
botanical names, with Greek fathers and Latin 
mothers, afflict your ears far more than the musical 
Hawaiian Palapalai. 

If both are heathen, the scholarly terms have the 
disadvantage of being dead heathen. The result of 
one of these parlor lectures upon the Filices, copi¬ 
ously illustrated with pressed and mounted specimens, 
is, that you go away feeling as if you had been pressed 



103 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 

and glued to card-board yourself, and wondering what 
manner of fern you are. Poor Miss Clara had spo¬ 
ken out of the depths of repeated experience of this 
sort, in which affronted ignorance and wearied admi¬ 
ration had played the active and passive parts in a 
social fiction of enjoyment; and I understood her. 
Clearly there are but two escapes from such misery. 
One must either learn more, and come to the enthusi¬ 
asm which springs from ample information; or one 
must take refuge in determined ignorance, and refuse 
to hear the troublous thing mentioned. It was a 
critical moment. Which should we choose ? Was 
it the ferns themselves, or the rare collection of 
them, or the charm of that broad, upper veranda over¬ 
looking the glossy rose-apple trees and the garden 
of roses and myrtle, and letting the eyes rove delight¬ 
edly up and far away over fields of wavy cane, across 
the dark and distant forest belt, along the soft, gray 
sides of Mauna Kea, and higher and higher to the 
very summit white with perpetual snow, only one 
step from heaven, or was it the social instinct in us, 
which made the prospect of a forenoon spent in any 
congenial way blessing enough, which decided us ? 
For one reason or all, we went to the upper veranda, 
and spent the forenoon as I shall narrate. 

First, we made a rest for the great fern-case out of 
two chairs. Then we lifted the precious case from 
the hall, where it commonly stood, into position for 


104 


ALOHA ! ” 


action on the chairs. Then we cushioned the back 
of the chair with shawls, that no scratch should touch 
the polished koa cover. This lifted, there was a yet 
more exquisite cover of native woods — the side of 
a portfolio — to be raised and protected, and then 
came the ferns. They were mounted on full-size 
sheets of Bristol-board, and some of the specimens 
required more than this space to display their noble 
proportions. 

It needed no scientific knowledge and no effort of 
the will to admire the frontispiece of this unique 
book. A wreath of Asplenium multisectum, the lace- 
fern of Kauai, encircled that generous native saluta¬ 
tion, the epitome of all good-will, “ Aloha,” its let¬ 
ters traced by the same delicate fern. Then the 
name of the lady to whom the book was presented 
was spelled out in choicest fern lettering. After 
this sop to the amiable and aesthetic sentiment, the 
scientific strata came thick and heavy. There they 
lay on their white beds of Bristol-board, “ lifeless 
but beautiful,” and little slabs of printed paper at 
their feet gave their names and habitat. Yes, the 
description is rather sepulchral, but the beauty of 
pressed leaves and flowers is always the beauty of 
death. After all, we needed the puzzle and provoca¬ 
tion of their scientific names to relieve the study of 
its pathos. “ What is that ? ” we would cry, as the 
lifting of a fresh sheet would uncover a frond with 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 105 

tlie free .sweep of a goose-quill, tipped and evenly 
trimmed on either side with tapering pinnae, its 
raehis and midrib prettily furred with hair as smooth 
as the otter's. Asplenium horrid urn, one reads from 
the slab, hah. Hawaii, &c. Then we all look as wise 
as we are ignorant, and pass on until the frequent 
recurrence of this word “ asplenium ” piques us into 
finding out its meaning, and, if possible, ascertaining 
the marks of this genus. We are not without the 
means of learning, if we are not too dull to use them. 
Mrs. C-and Mrs. S-have Gray’s Manual be¬ 

tween them, a sufficient help when the fern in ques¬ 
tion has relations in New England. A happy chance, 
when it happens, because then we learn, by one refer¬ 
ence, the family traits, the common every-day name, 
and how to pronounce the grander name, besides all 
the needed details of structure and habits of growth. 
What a gulf of distance between us and the asple¬ 
nium family is bridged over when we learn that its 
vulgar name is spleenwort; and that it got its title 
from a supposed efficacy in diseases of the spleen, no 
doubt. We begin to feel its effect already in our own 
improved temper, as we make so much progress into 
its high-sounding secret. 

“Asplenium horridum ,” says one. “Not at all 
horrid, now that we know about it.” But the horri¬ 
dum, my unclassical friend, is only a harmless Latin 
way of describing the downy coating of the stem. It 




106 


ALOHA ! ” 


stands up, so the old Romans would have said, “ like 
the hair on a frightened man’s head.” Horridum is 
simply hairy. We take it for granted that everybody 
knows that ferns are classified according to the disposi¬ 
tion of their seeds or fruitage, which is generally placed 
on the back of the fertile leaves. If you go ferning 
with a collector, you will at first be amused to see 
him turn every leaf upside down, as if it were a crab 
or turtle. He then anxiously examines the seeding 
on the under side. According as this is well or 
poorly marked, he accepts or rejects it. No matter 
how perfectly shaped or finely cut the frond may be, 
if it is not well seeded it has little value to him. In 
time, the chief beauty of a fern comes to reside in the 
fruitage. It is in vain to expostulate with the victim 
of the fern-fever; it is part of his madness to see no 
beauty except in the fertile specimen. He smiles su¬ 
perior when you admire an unfruitful branch, and only 
asks of each leaf you bring him, “ Is it well seeded ? ” 
The collection before us — a gift of friendship as it 
is — seldom ventures to present any but truly botan¬ 
ical specimens. And so carefully selected are they, 
such rare examples of their varied kinds and ways, 
that the taste of the scientific collector, no less than 
his knowledge, seems to find countenance in this fas¬ 
cinating book. By degrees we learn to recognize the 
members of the asplenium family whenever they ap¬ 
pear ; and as a test of our powers we cover the name 


107 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 

at the bottom of the card, and venture to pronounce 
upon the unfamiliar specimen, whether it be asple- 
nium or something else. “Fruit-dots single, and 
placed on the upper side of the veinlets,” we repeat 
after Gray, or perchance choosing Hooker, whose Sy¬ 
nopsis Filicum is one of our books of reference, we 
mumble inscrutable details that make either our igno¬ 
rance or his knowledge ridiculous. Of course we 
make many blunders; but gradually we get so disci¬ 
plined by our mistakes and so encouraged by our suc¬ 
cesses, that we hail with tolerable confidence each 
new asplenium, and call it by its family name. The 
specific names we put off for another day, or never, 
declaring that we do not care to know any thing 
more than the genus to which the ferns belong. 

Mistress Mary, not in the least contrary, but meekly 
submitting to instructions from one as ignorant of 
ferns as she was, consulted dictionary and glossary as 
occasion required, and soon won the reward of her 
docility by becoming one of the quickest discerners of 
us all. Madame held the simple lens which served 
us as a microscope, and the seed-spores had to be 
very seedy indeed — quite beyond the recognition of 
their own family — to escape her nice inquisition. 
“ Sori oblong or linear,” — the sori are the fruit-dots. 
Yes, she saw them. Involucre or indusium — that 
means the covering or envelope in which each cluster 
of seeds is generally enclosed — “ attached by one 


108 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


edge to veinlet.” “ Yes, there it was,” or very likely 
“ No,” because the involucre was simply shrivelled up 
past recognition in these dry and dead-ripe speci¬ 
mens. But generally enough features remained for 
identification, and the clearly printed labels soon cor¬ 
rected our mistakes. 

Make any thing in nature a subject of real study, 
and you shall find indifference turn to enthusiasm and 
ennui disappear. There is so much freedom and such 
endless variety, even in the household which goes by 
the same name. The members of the asplenium family, 
for example, differ at first sight even more than they 
agree. What a contrast between the Asplenium fra¬ 
gile, brought from the cool cleft of the mountain, 
where the waters flow unceasingly and' rains fall every 
day, and the nidus, nesting in the old ohia trees of 
the Hilo woods, and spreading its strong, thick leaves 
on all sides like an Indian’s feather head-dress, the 
under surface of each fertile leaf embossed with ashy 
lines of fern fruitage ! Or who that studies these, and 
reconciles them in his mind with the same family, is 
prepared for the sudden freak, as it seems, in the 
Asplenium gemmiferum, where little ferns, the very 
image of their mother, start out from the leaves of 
the parent fern, and grow there, with root and stem, 
until their weight bends their supporting stalk to the 
earth, when they come of age and start on a career 
for themselves! 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 109 

Only look at that gemmiferum , literally covered 
with a colony of young ferns. Now we pick up a 
sheet of Bristol-board, on which a fern is mounted, 
fully as delicate as the choicest lace-shawls of Brus¬ 
sels, and tapering in the same gradual way towards its 
graceful tip. Caught in its meshes, tiny brown specks 
may be discovered by the clear-sighted. The micro¬ 
scope would show that this too is an asplenium, but 
a blade of corn and the misty gallium are no more 
unlike to all appearance than these sisters of one 
family, — the birds’-nest fern of Hawaii and the lace- 
fern of Kauai. 

We are just getting actively interested in this fern- 
study, Gray and Hooker and Loudon and Webster’s 
Unabridged all open, the lens well adjusted, the mar¬ 
vellous collection revealing its treasures with kindly 
moderation to our unpractised eyes, when our self- 
banished sister in the parlor, tired of embroidering 
absurd butterflies and impossible leaves on a back¬ 
ground of linen drilling, suddenly takes to the piano, 
— a mutual attraction, as it seems, for that responsive 
instrument always gave out more to her prompt yet 
persuasive touch than to any other. 

Was it in mockery and with mischievous design 
upon our learned occupation that she played Yon 
Weber’s Invitation to the Waltz with such bewitch¬ 
ing spirit ? 

But we were not to be diverted. A Gymnogramme 


no 


ALOHA ! ” 


Javanica turned up just in time to captivate alike 
our taste and our curiosity. A chorus of approving 
“ Oh’s! ” greeted the coming of this perfect creature. 
There she stood, at least three feet high, raying olive- 
green leaves with edges of the finest pinking. “Veins 
free,” says Gray. Anybody can see that; the whole 
delicate meshwork in which the expanding life had 
once been prisoned was as visible and as free as a 
net sinking in green waters. In the texture of the 
leaf, but not of it, the very spirit of the fern seemed 
lingering, as if in fond rapture over the beautiful body 
it once inhabited. I think we got our first real pref¬ 
erence for the fruited side of ferns when we saw this 
Gymnogramme. The rich brown lines of spores fol¬ 
lowing and emphasizing the free veins combined the 
graceful branching of Micronesian coral with the equal 
grace and superior refinement of the fern. Sea and 
mountain seemed to acknowledge this perfect plant 
as their child, as in soberest scientific fact she was. 
For is it not the'sea sending up unceasingly its vapors 
which gives these islands their often showers, and 
without the rains you would search in vain, even in 
the deep gulches of Maui, for this exquisite creature. 
“So it lives in Maui,” I repeat, reading the invaluable 
label on the card-board. “ I commission you, as you 
value the memory of this hour, you people who are 
going to Maui, to get me a specimen of the Gymno¬ 
gramme.” There is a laughing assent among my 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.’’ Ill 

audience, which, I am satisfied, covers the same earnest¬ 
ness which really lurks in my own extravagant adju¬ 
ration. They mean to get it for me. Who knows 
but I may pick it for myself, if times and seasons and 
the more uncertain movements of the steamer “ Ivil- 
auea ” conspire to favor it, in the yet unplotted future. 
One word about the name, — Gymnogramme, — a 
style, I grant you, which contorts the mouth like a 
slight shock of paralysis. But when you know that 
it means simply “ a naked line,” and describes the 
clear marking of the fruitage running along the free 
veins, you see the sense of it, and that helps wonder¬ 
fully in recollecting and using it. 

“Why not call it the ‘Naked Line’ fern, do you 
say? That is what Captain St. George said when 
we showed him the fern and explained its name to 
him ; only he put it with more wit as well as sailorly 
roughness, — “ Why not call it ‘ Barebones ’ ? Seems 
to me that’s what you mean.” The possibility of 
having our queen among ferns thus styled reconciled 
us at once to “ Gymnogramme.” Besides, when we 
think of it, the popular demand that every thing in 
nature shall be named in the vernacular is simply a 
piece of national conceit and narrowness. In that 
case, every student of the scientific books written in 
other languages than his own would have his labor 
many times redoubled. Greek and Latin names in 
science really facilitate the study of natural history. 


112 


ALOHA ! ” 


They are a cosmopolitan tongue in science. They do 
for the world of natural philosophy what French has 
done for the traveller on the continent of Europe. 
They offer an accurate, and, to the student, a per¬ 
fectly intelligible medium of communication, all the 
more safe because, from their popular disuse, they 
are not exposed to the changes which take place in 
every living language. 

But we are getting off our veranda. Lunch will 

% 

soon be ready, and then we must close our portfolio 
for the day, if not for ever. It will never answer to 
leave so many good families unvisited. There are 
the Pterides, who trim their leafy dresses sometimes 
with narrow binding, sometimes with borderings of 
fur. They are all alike in this, that their fruitage is 
arranged on the back and along the edge of the fer¬ 
tile leaves. Decora, in the specimen before us, has 
her slender leaflets laden with sable. Cretica is more 
sparing in her ornamentation, although her size and 
graceful carriage might bear the burden better. Is 
there vanity and folly in plants, too, or is it only the 
natural injustice of ignorant prejudice clothing inno¬ 
cence in its own unrighteousness, that makes us think 
Decora is dressed too showily for her size? What a 
grand creature is Quadriaurita, in cleanly green that 
stands pressing so well, and neatly finished in velvet 
brown ! We admire Irregularis for his very eccen¬ 
tricity. The charming vagrant knows no law but 


113 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 

freedom ; his errors are his nature ; and yet, in all his 
wanderings, this guiltless vagabond never drops the 
family trait. 

Hallo ! there is the common brake. Is he, then, a 
Pteris? Yes, and bears the soaring name of Aqui- 
lina. Perhaps his eagle wings carry him to all 
lands. Certes, he is found everywhere. But the 
flower of this family, if Cryptogamia can have a flower, 
is Decipiens . 1 She is sometimes called Geranium, 
because she is most like a wild geranium leaf, made 
thicker and stronger, as suits a rock-fern, and mounted 
on a stem as glossy and crisp, if not as black, as the 
stem of the Maiden’s Hair. Imagine such a leaf, as 
nicely bordered with rich brown seeds on its under 
edge as if it were framed in black walnut. But you 
must not imagine the stiffness and hard finish of a 
picture-frame: the setting must be as soft as wool, 
and follow the ins and outs of the leaf with easy but 
even exactness. Yo clumsy folds, nothing drawn 
or puckered, and no hard edge either. The perfec¬ 
tion of framing, trimming, and stitching are all com¬ 
bined here. Everybody must admire the beauty of 
this dainty bit of nature, even in the hard and dry 
presentment of a herbarium. But go in search of it 
some bright day, when the showers have ceased for a 
day or two preceding, and the miry valleys can be 

1 I find this fern called Pellcea geraniifolia at the Botanic Gar¬ 
den in Cambridge. 


8 


114 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


travelled. Let me take you up the Xuuanu road to 
the Pali, and, as we lead our horses down the steep, 
rocky stairway, sliding, creeping, almost tumbling as 
we go, let us catch a favoring angle in the pathway, 
to rest man and beast, and then, peeping up the cliff, 
we shall be sure to find the prettiest possible speci¬ 
mens of our fern. 

She loves the dizzy height above the sea, 

Where she can watch and wait; 

Watch for the greater good that is to be, 

Wait for it, — watch and wait. 

’Tis all she does. Yet is she my delight, 

More lovely, idling so, 

Than busy people toiling through the night 
To make their projects go. 

When o’er the waters gleams the coming sail 
That heralds heaven on earth, 

The Lord shall find thee waiting, without fail, 

Type of the second birth. 

What a traveller is fancy! Here have we made 
the trip to Oahu and back on a pressed fern, all in 
the writing of a single page. Mistress Mary, still 
in her most amiable mood, is singing, — 

“ Pretty, pretty Poly-podium, 

How d’ you do ? How d’ you do ? ” 

N 

It is our introduction, or rather the more intimate 
and free salutation, of partial acquaintance with an¬ 
other family of ferns, the Polypodium. We had seen 
the Lineare tufting the limbs of old bread-fruit trees 



u ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 115 

in the streets of Hilo, and two or three quite tame 
specimens had rooted themselves in the eaves of the 
wash-house. Their oddity rather than their beauty 
had stopped us as we were about to pass them by. 
Pressed and mounted, they exhibited their double 
row of round sori, running nearly the full length of 
their slender fronds, with all the pride and precision of 
a company in some grand military review. A more 
likely simile, however, would be found, if I should 
compare them to the strips of peppermints one used 
to buy at the candy-stores a generation ago, or to a 
row of buttons basted upon pasteboard. All this 
was so unlike what we had been accustomed to con¬ 
sider the fern pattern, that it took us some time to 
realize that we were still in the order Filices. The 
clearly marked and distinct sori or seed-clusters gave us 
the best possible examples of fern fructification. There 
they were like so many tiny ant-hills, and we could 
see that there was no indusium or covering over the 
seeds. This was their family trait, by which we 
might always know them. But when it happens, as 
it does with all the ferns, that the indusium is only 
visible in its full, outspread shape for a brief period, 
and afterwards either shrivels up out of all regular 
shape or drops off entirely, how are we to distinguish 
with certainty between the Polypodium and the other 
varieties ? That is at present a poser, and will re¬ 
main so until long experience has made you sage on 


116 


“ ALOHA!” 


ferns. Meantime, live with them and learn. Learn 
that the little fellow next to Lineare, and enough like 
him to be his brother, only that he is covered with 
hairs, — a kind of Esau to smooth brother Jacob op¬ 
posite, — is Polypodium Hookeri. A charmer, isn’t 
he ? You would think so, if you should find him in 
a deep gorge I know, hiding his bright eyes in a cool 
lap of moss. Live and learn that the other little 
fellow, with his sort almost hopping out of him like a 
lobster’s eye, is Pseudo-grammitis. A big name, per¬ 
haps you think, for so small a specimen; but that is 
rather royal than otherwise. If your notions have 
been wholly shaped by the specimens thus far exhib¬ 
ited, you will be sure to guess wrong when we dis¬ 
play before your eyes a typical fern-form, a foot or 
two high, and having all the sub-breadth and taper¬ 
ing elegance of the best of the genus. Nephrodium. 
No. What do you know about Nephrodium? We 
have not studied that yet. Asplenium, then. No, 
nor yet Asplenium, although that accommodating 
family can always take in a fern that cannot get a 
lodging elsewhere. You know it is not a Pteris, be¬ 
cause its fruitage is scattered all over its back, like 
the spots on a turtle. Are they covered ? Madame, 
who holds the lens, looks, and says “ No.” Is there 
any sign of a covering ? Has the indusium shrivelled 
or fallen off ? Apparently not shrivelled; as to fall¬ 
ing off, cannot say. 


“on the upper veranda.” 117 

We conclude to call it a Polypodium, unless it is 
something else. It isn’t something else. We look tri¬ 
umphantly at one another, and say, we are decidedly 
making progress. Polypodium unitum is the legend. 
But even this evidence of versatility in this family does 
not prepare us for the next revelation. A little spray 
turns up as fine as the finest acacia leaf, and looking 
something like it; very like the foliage of the tamarind. 
What can it be ? The seeding is so small and scat¬ 
tered, finding scant standing-room on the slender 
pinnae, that it is difficult to investigate. But eyes and 
lens undertake the task, and pronounce in favor of 
no indusium. Spores free. Can it be a Polypo¬ 
dium ? Opinions are divided. Is it a fern at all ? 
Isn’t somebody cheating us ? Hasn’t that jocose cap¬ 
tain who wanted our Gymnogramme disgraced been 
playing a practical joke upon us, and slipped a leaf 
of tamarind into this sumptuous collection ? Tama¬ 
rind leaves do not have sori. No, but they may have 
less tidy seeds out of a neighboring kingdom. “ Non¬ 
sense ! ” says Madame, her eyes and lens flashing with 
injured feeling. “ We recognize the seeding. This 
is a fern.” 

And so it is. Polypodium tamariscinum is named 
from its resemblance to the tamarind leaf; so our sus¬ 
picion was not wholly without sense. In spite of our 
resolution to the contrary, we are getting into the 
specific names; but when they are so significant as 


118 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


the last one, how can we help it ? But the generic 
names are enough for one forenoon. We have not 
learned half of them. Will somebody explain Aspi- 
dium, and tell us how to recognize the children of 
that household ? Somebody reads from Loudon—pre¬ 
cious old encyclopaedia as he is, as far as he goes — 
that the name comes from the Greek acriris, a shield. 
You may know them by their shields, round indusia 
protecting the spores. See ! and the lens lays bare 
the smooth disk of the involucre, so that we all ap¬ 
preciate the fitness of the name. A fresh specimen 
of the Falcatum presents the shields of an army of 
sori. But not all the specimens are so surely marked. 
Sometimes the circle is slit on one side, and becomes 
kidney-shaped. How then distinguish them from the 
Nephrodium, which gets its name from its kidney- 
like indusia ? No great matter if we do not always 
maintain the distinction, for they are near relations. 
Together they make a noble family group. The arrow- 
headed Aculeatum carries both spear and shield, and 
fights its way bravely through the world. And see 
how the lances of Halekkalense bristle for the fray ! 
Find that fern, as I did at a later date, half-way up 
the side of that ruined House of the Sun, Halekkal&, 
— it grows nowhere else in the world, — and if you 
are worthy to pick it, you will feel yourself glowing 
with something like the grateful emotion of Columbus 
on discovering a new world. For this is no tame 


“ ON THE UPPER VERANDA.” 119 

lowland weed, no common world-wide branch. It 
presses up through the deadly breach made by vol¬ 
canic shock, and down which the flood of molten lava 
once poured red-hot rivers to the sea. Under a sur¬ 
face which glows in the sunshine like the satin rock 
the natives call pahoehoe, it carries, soft and warm in 
woolly folds, the hidden treasure of perennial life. 
Silently and well it keeps the memory of the moun- 

l 

tain which gave it birth and still supports it. 

Heart of fire in breast of stone ! 

/ Ha-le-&-ka-la! 

Thy fires, are dead, thy life is flown, 

Ha-le-a-ka-la ! 

But I thy heart will keep, 

In me thy fires shall sleep, 

And in the dav when all things burn 
Thy ancient glory shall return, 

Ha-le-k-ka-la ! Ha-le-a-ka-Bi ! 

There is more courage in that fern than in half the 
men. And yet there seems no need of bothering these 
simple children of nature with moral attributes. 
Enough that they are beautiful without intention, 
true without effort, original without folly, and con¬ 
stant without being dull. I find them refreshing • 
company after a surfeit of the other kind. I believe 
I could profitably introduce my human friends wher¬ 
ever they are to each and all of this rather green, 

I confess, but very presentable family. If we had not 
already gone far enough into the gallery of family 


120 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


portraits, I would beg you to look at more of them. 
But high noon is at hand. The piano is still. Miss 
Clara has gone to make her toilet for lunch; no 
slight matter for our modern Eve. Our hostess ex¬ 
cuses herself, and leaves us. Madame sighs conclu¬ 
sively, as if conscious of the necessity of stopping our 
study for the day, but by no means resigned to it. 
Our fair interpreters lay aside their clew ; and school 
is dismissed. Only for a few moments do we linger 
to note the changed scene. Mauna Kea is a closed 
book. Wrapped in clouds, he is to sight as he were 
not. The rain is trooping seaward over the dimmer 
and dimmer forest belts ; and now across the darken¬ 
ing fields of cane the storm comes freshening on. 
Now the slender, towering Pride of India feels it; 
now it catches the helpless bananas, tearing their sail¬ 
like leaves in shreds; now it shakes the mango and 
the wide branching samang beside the piazza, and 
the drops fall briskly on the roses and lilies in the 
garden. We have just time enough to house our 
fern-case in the big upper hall before the floods of 
Hilo are let loose again. Lunch is now ready, and 
. our forenoon on the upper veranda is over. 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


121 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 

ALF a mile from Hilo pier, as the ships sail, 



* * lies Cocoa-nut Island. An acre of land would 
amply cover it, and leave something to tuck in around 
the edge. Two or three dozen cocoa-nut trees grow 
there, and in virtue of their prominence give the island 
its name. It is so near the eastern shore of the harbor, 
that one is tempted to wade over the narrow channel 
that flows between. We had been waiting for a favor¬ 
able conjunction of weather, leisure, and desire, to go 
and spend the day there. It came on Thursday, 
March 4. We had been expecting it a day or two 
before, and all needed preparations were made when 

the sun rose on this happy morning. The A-’s, Miss 

Mary, and her sisterly aunt and our hostess were to 
go on horseback, while our host, Miss Clara, Madame, 
the children, and myself were to ride the billows. A 
retinue of handy servants relieved us of every burden 
except ourselves. This morning that particular bundle 
was not so heavy as we have known it. Sunshine, 
leisure, good company, and a happy prospect for the 
day quite buoyed up the old baggage. We marched 
to the shore, cavalry and infantry and baggage-train, 



122 


“ ALOHA!” 


intent on investing the Castle of Peace, said to 
be located on Cocoa-nut Island, and bringing it to a 
surrender before sunset. It was a bright, clear day, 
so we took every possible protection against the rain, 
— waterproofs, umbrellas, rubber coats, shawls, and 
other wraps. Then the bathing-clothes helped swell 
the luggage. Hampers and baskets filled up the train, 
and off we started. The invoice of our cargo, how¬ 
ever, would not be complete without the following 
item : two long sticks of sugar-cane for the children. 
Slippery, unaccommodating, and of unequal length, 
they refused to travel in company with any other 
bundle, and engrossed the entire strength of a full- 
grown native, who walked with them to the shore, 
one in each hand, looking as miserable as if each cane 
were a policeman escorting him to the jail. 

The embarkation at Hilo is always a blundering 
process. It is always by mistake that anybody gets 
into the great boat which jumps and bumps at the 
foot of the iron stairway on the wharf. According 
to all the probabilities, you ought to step into the sea, 
and the boat ought to be flung upon the sand by the 
combing waves that break a foot or two nearer shore. 
Thanks to my facility at blundering, I was soon 
floundering, like a fish fresh caught, in the bottom of 
the yawl. Unable to assist my companions beyond 
the instructive example I had set them, it was with 
real gratitude that I saw them come down in the 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


123 


arms of stalwart kanakas like the other baggage, and 
get stowed away in out-of-the-way corners. Then, 
with an explosion of Hawaiian outcries, we shot de¬ 
liberately out into the sea, and went rieochetting 
over the waves like a slow cannon-ball. In favoring 
lifts we could catch glimpses of our cavalry flying over 
the circling beach. Fluttering veils and flowing robes 
and galloping horses made a lively and captivating 
picture from the sea. Meantime our own course 
develops beauty as we go, and once free from the 
vicissitudes of the landing, we thoroughly enjoy this 
short voyage. “ How beautiful is labor ! ” exclaimed 
the sage, as he sat in the shade on a summer’s day, 
and watched his wife bringing water from the well. 
Beautiful indeed ! we echo, as, stretched out at our 
ease, we admire the broad shoulders and supple arms 
of the oarsmen, pulling our boat from w r ave to wave. 
Oh for a bronze of that steersman, mastering boat and 
sea with the flap of his long oar! Face and posture 
speak as audibly as the tongue. Noav, “Wield! 
Avicki! ” he cries, and the very children knoAV Avhat 
he means. To this hour my boy cries “ Wicki! 
w r icki! ” Avhen he means “ Hurry up ! ” The sea 
going one Avay and our boat the other, doubles the 
impression of speed, I suppose. We seem to be 
making good progress, and congratulate ourselves on 
the prospect of reaching the island of rendezvous be¬ 
fore the land-going party. But distances at sea are 
deceptive things. 


124 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


Either Cocoa-nut Island is adrift and floating away 
from us, or it is further from the pier than half a mile. 
And when at length we pick our way through the 
narrow channel on its eastern end, we And our friends 
picking shells, and their horses picking grass on the 
main shore. We disembark, and they are soon ferried 
over, and then our picnic begins. First we search 
the ragged lava rock for shells, alive or dead. Then, 
skirting the shore, we come upon miniature bluffs of 
iron-like rock, against which the waves beat them¬ 
selves into fountains of silvery spray. Harbors and 
headlands and creeks and sloping sandy beach, all in 
little, girded this petite world. It would have made 
a perfect home for some Liliput Robinson Crusoe; 
only little Robinson would have need to beware of 
the cocoa-nuts aloft, if he valued his own. These 
soaring palms do not know how to be little. Once 
plumed, the young trees have a compass of wing, 
equal to that of the oldest. The mature trees cuddle 
their fruit under them as a hen gathers her chickens. 
We lay on the ground in this grove of coco palms 
and discussed the chances of the fruit’s falling while 
we were there. The sceptic whose wiser judgment 
would have placed the pumpkin on the oak tree and 
the acorn on the vine would have been perfectly sat¬ 
isfied with the arrangement here. But what shame 
would have covered the poetical philosopher who 
snubbed the sceptic so unmercifully for bis innocent 
criticism when the acorn struck him ! 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


125 


“ Fool, had that bough a pumpkin bore, 

Thy noddle would have worked no more, 

Nor skull have kept it in.” • 

Beside one of these hard-shelled nuts a pumpkin 
would have been a very soft impeachment of the hu¬ 
man providence which the popular faith so confi¬ 
dently discovers in every way of nature. 

But the doctrine of chances, even imperfectly un¬ 
derstood, was so favorable to our taking our ease, 
that we felt no risk in our palmy bower. I am not 
sure but we would have enjoyed thinking that one or 
two of the nuts might fall, in order that we might 
taste their contents. A cocoa-nut fresh from the 
trees is no every-day fare for New-Englanders. We 
began to feel curiosity pricking appetite, and desire 
fairly piqued into longing, as we looked up at the in¬ 
accessible fruit. It would have had time to turn 
very sour, however, before our appetites could have 
been gratified, if chance or our own agility had been 
our only dependence. Fortunately, our native ser¬ 
vants liked nothing better than to be up a tree ; and, 
before we could see how they did it, they had climbed 
or walked up, for feet as well as hands grasped the 
branchless trunk, and were showering the ground 
about us with fruit. 

It was hardly more accessible now than before; 
for its husk was as impenetrable as the shell of a 
tortoise. Here, again, our deft natives were our 


126 


“ ALOHA!” 


friends. Seizing the nuts in both hands, they raised 
and dashed them, blunt end downwards, upon a 
pointed rock or sharp stick thrust into the ground, 
and when the outer shell was thus removed, hands 
and teeth together completed the operation. A light 
tap vdth a stone around the facial end removed it as 
neatly as if it were only the cover of a fruit-can, and 
then every sense was regaled at once by the outcome. 
Odors of costliest ointment, milk of Nature’s kind¬ 
ness, a cool cup all brown without, all white within, 
meat so tender that it could be eaten with a spoon, 
and, when its contents were eaten, the dainty shell, 
held up to the ear, would discourse as sweet and 
solemn music as any conch you ever picked up on the 
beach. 

If there is anywhere else in the w^orld a view in 
which grandeur and SAveetness so conspire to elevate 
and console the spectator as the vieAv from this 
island, I haA T e not found it. Byron’s Bay in front, 
its face all smiles, — not laughing, A r ery far removed 
from that immeasurable laughter of the ocean which 
Homer celebrates, and in Avhich there seems some¬ 
thing almost sardonic, not quite friendly, at the least, 
— then the keen edge of the beach flashing over the 
blossoming AA r aves like a sickle that for eA r er cuts a 
field for eA r er blooming. AboA T e the beach, the busi¬ 
ness street Avhere Commerce takes his ease, and Spec¬ 
ulation nods. It is impossible to keep the reflection 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


127 


of our experience of Hilo out of this distant view 
of it. We recognize, within the little maze of foli¬ 
age and house-tops, our own dwelling, and can hardly 
realize that we are on the island which, from its win¬ 
dows, seems no more than a distant reef. Three 
churches lift their towers and spires, and borrow so 
much beauty from distance that we wonder if it may 
not be that the church, after all, is as great a bless¬ 
ing to those who stand apart from its intimate minis¬ 
tration as to those that enter in. Who can tell what 
springs of healing memory are opened in the “ heart’s 
deep cell ” at the sound of Sabbath bells, or what 
monitions of conscience are felt in the church’s up¬ 
raised finger ? Though empty of hearers, the church 
itself is a preacher of righteousness to all who can see 
it. Viewing the little town, as we do to-day, lying 
between the street of Commerce and the temple of 
Religion, we see the condition of a State’s prosperity, 
business life “ in the fear of the Lord.’’ If I were 
preaching, I would take the history of Hawaii for the 
last fifty years to show that, while useful occupation 
is necessary to good conduct, the commerce which 
pursues its ends regardless of moral right and Chris¬ 
tian admonition is the ruin of the land it visits. 
But this is serious talk for our day of island rest and 
recreation. *Let the eyes rove contentedly, seeing 
only their beauty now, over the fields of sugar-cane 
and across the uplands covered with rich Hilo grass. 


.128 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


Distance is as kind to factories as to churches, and the 
tall chimneys and shabby buildings blend harmoni¬ 
ously with tree and meadow foliage. Then the belt 
of forest trees which binds Hawaii like a girdle deep- 
ens the shade, but keeps the fertile color of the won¬ 
drous green landscape; and above all, yet in and 
through all, — for we feel its presence even when its 
form is shut out by clouds, — stands Mauna Kea, the 
perfect mountain. Its rise is so gradual and its sum¬ 
mit so far away, that there is nothing threatening or 
impending about it. One is not startled or over¬ 
powered by it. At first, he rather wonders that it 
does not look higher, with its fourteen thousand feet 
of stature. 

It has the greatness of the angels, above us, yet 
with us ; or, to keep within the range of human obser¬ 
vation, it has that fixed and tranquil look which long 
experience, meekly borne, gives to the faces of the 
wisest and best people we have known. Its great¬ 
ness was achieved, not merely native or compulsory. 
For unnumbered years it had patiently built up its 
great mass and drawn its noble outline against the 
sky. It had gone through the waters, and they had 
not overflowed it; and though the flames had en¬ 
veloped it, no smell of fire w T as in its garments. 
Among historical characters, it reminds me most of 
John the Evangelist: in youth, a son of thunder, in¬ 
voking fire to come down and consume an unbelieving 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


129 


world; in riper years, the calm, receptive soul, into 
whose brooding mind the spirit of truth poured the 
revelation of the Word. “ Dost thou tarry till he 
come ? ” we ask, as we look up at this permanent 
prophet of a better world; and far up on the moun¬ 
tain’s summit a light, “white and glistering,” seems to 
say, “He cometli now.” 

He cometh now ! See clouds of heaven brightening, 

And golden street across the waters laid, 

From east to west; behold ! his coming shineth, 

Love’s kindred see Love in the things He made. 

Distance turns all songs to hymns. This verse 
bears no resemblance to the verses we recited or read 
that day. Photographic writing must be done on the 
spot of the occurrence delineated, or within sight of 
it. This distant recollection of past travel, no doubt, 
borrows as much from our present mood as from the 
old experience. But if it is true, as men so often find, 
that we only wake up to the significance of an occa¬ 
sion when it is gone by, this sketch may be the truer 
and better for waiting. What we really read was 
something humorous from “ Martin Chuzzlewit,” and 
something dreamy from Tennyson’s “ Lotos Eaters; ” 
and of the two, Dickens was the more enjoyed. It is 
a mistake to select your reading for any lovely bit of 
scenery from the poets of Nature. Nature wants to 
be complemented with humanity, not surfeited with 
her own reflections. 


9 


130 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


Bret Harte hints this thought when, in his threnody 
to Dickens, he pictures the tall pines listening to the 
story of Little Nell. Better a discord even, than 
any increase of the monotone which underlies the 
music of the sea-shore. We found little interest and 
no natural rapport in the “ Lotos Eaters ” that day, 
although read by a voice as grave and sweet as its 
own beguiling verse. 

But Cocoa-nut Island has livelier sports than this 
legendary idlesse. The prettiest bathing-beach in the 
world lies on the seaward side. It is guarded on 
either side by rocks of lava, and slopes gently down 
from the yellow-green sedge-grass, over white sands 
and under rolling waves, to unknown depths beyond. 
Already our native boys, dressed in their beautiful 
bathing-suits of rich brown skin and malo round the 
waist, are laughing and leaping like seals from the 
rocks and among the waves. I join them in a suit 
of flannel, not remarkable for beauty, and try to at¬ 
tribute my inferior swimming in part to my clothing. 

Surely the Pacific is salter than the Atlantic. I 
never felt so briny after bathing at home. Other 
people speak of it, and at Waikiki the best furnished 
cottages provided for a fresh-water bath immediately 
after the sea-bath. If there is any virtue in salt, there 
seems to be no reason why one should not keep for 
ever after one of these dips in the waters of the 
Pacific. Their adhesive power is equally strong. 


COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


131 


The process of dressing in one of the recesses of this 
little sandy beach made me wonder how much of the 
island would be left behind when I got through. 
For all that, the bath was refreshing. The day would 
not have been complete without it. Looking back 
across a whole continent and half an ocean, after an 
interval of six months, and amid the more than tropi¬ 
cal heat of a New England summer, so strong is the 
memory of this sea-bath from Cocoa-nut Island, that 
a physical sense of coolness and invigoration comes 
over me as I write. The green fields that stretch 
away on all sides from my window turn to blue waves. 
The elms are singing the song of the palms. The 
woodbine has caught the very air and manner of the 
sea convolvulus. Blurred by distance, the farm men’s 
voices sound indistinct as pure Hawaiian, and in the 
closing of an eye I am in Hilo again. “ Come, 
friends,” I hear our host and captain say, “ if we are 
to reach home before night, we must turn our faces 
shorewards soon.” He knows how hardly we shall 
part from this captivating spot. Besides, are we not 
promised a ramble along the main shore towards 
Keokaa ? A beach with rarer shells is there; and 
the whole rocky shore beyond is most curiously 
cracked into branching dykes, through which the 
rising waves pour incessant floods, filling and falling 
as the ocean heaves and falls. We are put across the 
channel in our boat, and for an hour longer we follow 


132 


ALOHA ! 


u 




the coast, marvelling at the work of fire and water 
fulfilling the word of the Lord. These iron rocks 
were poured in a molten river from mountain into 
ocean. Think of iron fired in Mauna Loa and tem¬ 
pered in the Pacific Ocean ! Such is the tire which 
binds Hawaii. We walk along the rim, and peer into 
the black caves, where the green waves make their 
den. Now, as it seems, all is still and empty. And 
now, with a deep roar, his mane on end, the leonine 
water comes rushing towards us. Perchance some 
angel, unseen of us, stops his mouth. He slinks back, 
surly but subdued. Wait quietly and watch, look¬ 
ing into one of these dark pits. See, the rock is all 
alive with crabs, almost as black as the pit. The 
least movement from you will send them scam¬ 
pering to their protecting clefts. But they fear 
nothing from the roaring, trampling waves; they 
simply cling the tighter when the waters rise and let 
the great flood roll over them. In this fascinating 
exploration we take no note of time, and night might 
have overtaken us among these pitfalls if the cap¬ 
tain’s call had not sounded. We returned to the 
boat, to find every thing packed, and everybody but 
ourselves ready to return. Then the land and sea 
forces took each its natural way, after one of the 
most peaceful and successful assaults that little island 
has ever known. 




COCOA-NUT ISLAND. 


133 


Farewell ! thou happy moment in a day of Time, 
Thou island, set in the immeasurable sea ; 

’Tis not by length of days true joy is found : 

’Tis by pure rapture and intensity. 

One truly happy moment is enough 

To keep the clew and guide the traveller’s way ; 
As in a labyrinth, one little spark 
Leads through the darkness into open day. 




t 



134 


u ALOHA ! ” 


PUNA AND ONOMEA. 

Monday, March 13. 

I START with Mr. L-, this forenoon, for a 

trip to Puna. I am mounted on “ Romeo,” 
one of his horses. We propose to ride to Kaau, 

where Mr. L- has a house and cattle station, 

dine there, and press on to Puna this afternoon. 
The entire ride to Kaau is through the woods, 
which only differ from those we passed in going 
to Kilauea in being more open and evidently 
more frequently travelled. The road is quite pass¬ 
able ; or would be, if one had wings. In places it 
really seems like a road constructed, as it has been, 
by the hand of man. My friend, when mounted on 
one of his horses, is a perfect centaur. There is 
nothing in the shape of the impassable which he can¬ 
not ride over with perfect ease. He cannot lay claim 
to the cattle on a thousand hills, but thousands of 
cattle on the hill are his or his partners’. A level¬ 
headed man under all circumstances, he inspires me 
with absolute confidence and respect. He is the eld¬ 
est son of my revered friend, in whose house one of 
the happiest fortnights of my life has been passed. 




PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


135 


His own house, close beside his father’s, unites New 
England thrift with Hawaiian grace and pleasantness 
in a rare and happy combination. It was like him to 
give me “ Romeo,” his favorite horse, for this excur¬ 
sion, and equally like him to saddle himself with my 
care and guidance on an errand of business of his own. 
It seems to have been given to these missionaries, as 
a compensation for their early sacrifices and labors, to 
have diligent, upright, and prosperous sons. Both in 
the Islands and in our own country the children of 
Hawaiian missionaries are occupying positions of re¬ 
sponsibility, and accumulating property. The habits 
of industry and economy in which they were of neces¬ 
sity bred have doubtless had much to do with their 
success. This very family, besides giving my accom¬ 
plished companion and his brother, the circuit judge, 
to Hawaii, has sent two able sons to America and 
a daughter to Kauai. Arrived at Kaau, we lunch 
on boiled eggs and taro, bait our horses and give 
them a brief nooning, and at two o’clock start again 
for Puna. The student of lava will find every variety 
on this route, and an abundance of it. Beginning in 
a vast expanse of pohoehoe or satin-stone, it leads to 
a-a, pumice, and rotten-stone. Lauhala forests cover 
the pohoehoe, and now and then as we travel through 
them wild cattle make their appearance, and ac¬ 
knowledge Mr. L-’s ownership by running rap¬ 

idly away. Some coco palms succeed the lauhalas . 



136 


“ ALOHA!” 


All the way the sound of a splendid surf attends us, 
and occasionally a lock of silvery spray tossed above 
the rocks hints the ocean beauty which we cannot 
see. All at once this iron barrier is removed, and we 
are opposite a beach where the surf rolls up magnifi¬ 
cently. At. the foot of the black lava sand-hills, be¬ 
yond this beach, we stop to pick up olivine crystals 
scattered among the lava pebbles. Then we come to 
fresh green lands, with the finest specimens of coco 
palms which we have seen. Mr. Clement’s witty 
comparison of this palm to a “ feather-duster struck 
by lightning ” does not apply to these luxuriant jets 
of foliage. Each frond, with pinnae of a vivid, glossy 
green and a midrib of polished amber, was a piece of 

ideal vegetation. I did not wonder that Miss B-, 

who sojourned with us at Hilo, wished, above all 
things, to carry one of these palm leaves to America 
with her. It is the chef-d'oeuvre of tropical vegeta¬ 
tion. No wonder this district was a favorite dwell¬ 
ing-place of the natives. A respectable settlement 
still remains. But the large old meeting-house, 
which stands among the little grass houses as an os¬ 
trich might stand with a brood of chickens about 
her, seems sadly in excess of the probable need of 
the place. Not many years ago it was filled with 
worshipping congregations. Dr. Coan tells me that 
he has preached there to an overflowing house; but 
there will be no crowd this year, although all the 
population around is convened. 



PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


137 


There is to be a general conference in this church 
in two days. On our return to-morrow, we shall 
meet family and neighborly parties going to Puna to 
keep this church appointment. Delegates from Hilo 
will be coming over this difficult road; Mr. Forbes 
and Dr. Coan will both be among them. The latter 
has often walked the whole distance, preached, pre¬ 
sided at business meetings, prayed, talked, and re¬ 
sponded to innumerable calls and claims, — doing 
the work of a week in two days, — during one of 
these conferences. When I asked him if such unre¬ 
mitted speech and labor did not wear upon him, his 
answer was, “ Well, I sometimes feel a little leg- 
weary.” A little way beyond the church, we turn 
aside from the beaten path, to visit a famous warm 
spring. Riding through a coco grove, we soon reach 
it, — a natural bathing-trough in the cleft of a rock. 
A little hut on its brink — itself very inadequately 
clad — answered for a dressing or undressing house, 
and from its threshold the bather stepped or plunged, 
according to his ability. My companion, like all Ha- 
waiians “ to the manor born,” was amphibious, and 
disported himself in this deep pool of tepid water 
with a freedom and variety of action which made my 
laborious pawing on the surface ridiculous. What 
refreshment anybody finds in this enervating flood I 
cannot imagine. The unwary traveller will be as¬ 
sured that it is a potent cure for all the bruises and 


138 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


jars incident to flesh ; and in this faith he may go in. 
If he wishes to keep his faith, he had better stay out. 
One clear, cold bath is worth a hundred of these 

warm ablutions. We arrive at Captain E-’s 

ranche, our destination, at six o’clock. Here we find 
a cluster of* buildings facing a cluster of green hills 
and springing pasture-lands, and in their rear the 

ever-present sea. Captain E- is a German, his 

wife is Hawaiian, and his children are both. The 
native complexion and eyes, hovever, predominate in 
the family, and their life on the ranche will make the 
Hawaiian type of character and habit the ruling one. 
Half a dozen houses are required to do the duty of 
one or two larger houses among us. 

A dwelling and dormitory, a dining-house, a shop, 
a store, a barn, all are clustered together here; and 
an immense barn-yard, where cows in every stage of 
unruliness are congregated, completes the domesticity 
of the place. This is a stopping-place for travellers 
going to Kilauea by the Puna route, and happily one 
can pay for his entertainment, a rare privilege in 
these too hospitable islands. What would a New 
England farmer say to one of these great ranches, so 
prodigal of cattle, so destitute of milk ? The opera¬ 
tion of milking the cows at evening was more like a 
battle than a peaceful farming chore. No song of 
the milkmaid would ever have been written here. 
The gentle animal with the beseeching eyes, sweetly 




PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


139 


responsive to the milkmaid’s touch, is not a Hawaiian 
product. These untamed beasts will yield nothing 
unless their calves are kept, to appeal to their natural 
feelings; and even then the process of securing the 
residue is attended with serious liabilities from hoof 
or horn. 

A mad bull is a tame creature, it is said, beside a 
mad cow. The former shuts his eyes when he drives 
at you; the latter keeps hers open. This interferes 
with one’s freedom in dodging her attack. I was 
pleased to see that our ranchero, the captain, in spite 
of his knowledge of the field, made some very lively 
motions as he badgered the cows into position for 
milking, and beset them with calf and milker on 
either hand. It may be that the uncertain temper of 
the cattle in this secluded ranche life serves to intro¬ 
duce the spice of excitement into its excessive mo¬ 
notony. The irascible cow is the pastoral analogue 
of the murderer, burglar, or house-burner of civilized 
society, whose exploits give the daily paper its zest 
and entertainment. Certainly something more than 
the possibility of an earthquake or an eruption is 
needed to give to the joys of this perfect earth their 
needed element of insecurity. The dwellers in vol¬ 
canic regions lose their dread of earthquakes the mo¬ 
ment they are past, and no spectacle of cooled lava 
raises the fear of fiery floods. 

Mr. L-has to look for some cattle on the way 



140 


“ALOHA ! ” 


home, and give directions to his drivers. He there¬ 
fore takes an early start the next morning, agreeing 
to intercept me somewhere on my return. As there 
is but one path, and no temptation in the adjoining 
country to leave it, I cannot well go astray, and have 
no regret but the loss for a while of his agreeable 
company. There is an old heiau on a neighboring hill 
which I must visit, and also a green lake to which I 
am recommended ; a subtle compliment, no doubt, to 
my inexperience in Hawaiian ways and places. I 
visit the lake first, and find it a deep pool in the pit 
of an old crater. Time, moisture, and warmth have 
clothed the once bare sides of the crater with foliage, 
and I suppose the green tint comes from the reflec¬ 
tion in the pool of its verdant enclosure. Two 
ducks held undisputed possession of the lake when I 
was there. I should say that it was an excellent 
place for ducks. 

The other excursion to the hill-top, where the ruins 
of the old heiau may be seen, and where an outlook 
is secured unsurpassed in scope, variety, and sugges¬ 
tiveness, must have a chapter by itself. I cannot 
marshal what I wish to say about Christian missions 
and them influence upon these islands under any other 
text than that given to me that morning in the de¬ 
serted heiau of Puna. In the missionary chapter 
which follows must be given the story of my impres¬ 
sions upon this desecrated hill-top. After spending 


PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


141 


the forenoon there, I rode back to Captain E-’s, 

to make my farewell and pay my dues. I found a 
native woman there who was well known for her 
skill in weaving the strong and comely lauhala mats/ 
everywhere used by the Hawaiians as beds. She en¬ 
gaged to furnish me with half a dozen, and the Cap¬ 
tain undertook to send them to my friends in Honolulu 
to be shipped to America. 

They are much admired, and often used by our 
guests at the farm in New England where we spend 
our summers. Laid upon the grass, they offer a 
tempting and comfortable lounge, easily transported, 
and never out of order. One summer night, when 
my Hawaiian recollections were so strong with me, 
that I was compelled to do something to quiet the 
homesickness for Hawaii, I slept on our lanai, — a 
piazza thirty feet square, which we have built on the 
Hawaiian pattern, — and made these mats my bed. 
It proved an effectual cure for that attack. I did not 
wonder that those islanders resorted to lomi-lomi, or 
any other manipulation which would relieve the body 
of stiffness and soreness. One quiet night of such 
repose is as exhausting as a day’s journey on horse¬ 
back. And when, in the midst of the horizontal star¬ 
gazing with which the night commenced, the air began 
to hum with insect life, and grow “eager and nipping” 
with insect vitality, ah ! then we remembered Hawaii’s 
only but sufficient misery, — the nocturnal mosquito. 



142 


“ ALOHA ! 


» 


But this is a most unseasonable reminiscence, just as 
we were setting out on our horseback ride to Hilo, in 
the clear noon-tide. It is a sparkling day ; hardly a 
cloud in the sky; a new edition of the old poem of 
the creation, bound in blue and gold. “ Romeo ” and 
I ask no other company than each other, and set out 
buoyantly on our return. Woodland and garden and 
pasture-land brighten and cheer the way for the first 
hour or two, and when we come to the desolate lava 
flows and their desperate surroundings, we are not 

alone, — Mr. L-, with two native herdsmen, join 

us before that time. Together we ride back to Kaau, 
every mile or two meeting natives from Hilo going to 
Puna to attend the coming convention ; and when we 
reach the grass house in which we are to spend the 
night, we find Dr. Coan and his estimable wife there. 
The account of that evening must be postponed also 
to our chapter on missions. After the evening ser¬ 
vices were over, Mr. L-and I took a bath in the 

sea, and then, walking inland a rod or two, we plunged 
into a fresh-water pond which lies conveniently near 
the sea, and were rescued from the pickle in which 
the over-salt Pacific generally leaves the bather in its 
waters. That night, thanks to healthy weariness and 
the double bath, we slept a dreamless sleep on beds 
of mats. Half of the grass house was curtained off, 
and all the white company lay down there with quite 
as much privacy and far more air and room than that 




PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


143 


last achievement of modern civilization, the Pullman 
car, affords. My host and I rose at four o’clock the 
next morning, determined to reach Hilo by breakfast¬ 
time. We also secured, by our early start, the only 
fresh and cool hours of the day for the journey. In 
mingled moonlight and dawn we passed through the 
Hilo woods, and arrived at our homes — no other 
name is dear enough for the houses in which I stayed 
at Hilo — in time for the all-renewing bath and the 
best of breakfasts which awaited us there. In my 
absence, Madame and the b.oy had absconded. The 

A-s of Onomea had invited us to visit them in 

their breezy home, and Mr. S-had escorted the 

only members of the family who could accept the in¬ 
vitation to their destination. Onomea is about eight 
miles north of Hilo. It is the name given to Mr. 

A-s extensive sugar plantation and mills. In the 

rainy season, there is some peril in crossing the 
streams which flow into the sea all along this shore 
through numerous ravines. But we had beeu favored 
with ten days’ freedom from frequent rains, — a spe¬ 
cial dispensation, it seemed, for our benefit. It gave 
us the very opportunity we desired, not only to visit 
Onomea, which Miss Bird has described in such a 
fascinating way in her rapturous book, but also to see 
some unique falls in the great forest in the rear of 

Hilo. It was arranged that Mrs. S-and I should 

follow the deserters on my return, and on Thursday 






144 


“ ALOHA!” 


morning we started. After crossing the deep-flowing 
Wailuku, and climbing the further bank of the gulch 
through which it finds the ocean, our way was through 
a succession of ravines of varying depth but unvary¬ 
ing steepness. 

The road was little more than a bridle-path, and 
seemed to have been engineered by a stream of water. 
Its course was very much the same as might be taken 
by such a stream starting from the top and running 
down the side of the ravine. Possibly it was built 
with reference to the wishes of running water, for un¬ 
doubtedly in this region of incessant rain the water 
is its most frequent traveller. But nobody who can 
appreciate the glorious green and luxuriant grace of 
the vegetation here will complain of the rain. It is 
that which makes such verdure possible. And what 
would the sugar-fields and taro patches do without 
this abundant rainfall ? We stop at Pauka, and fijjd 
the sugar-pans in full ebullition. We pass Kaiwiki, 
too, the sugar plantation in which our good doctor of 
Hilo is interested. We easily ford most of the streams 
with which this coast is fringed, but two of them re¬ 
quire a ferry-boat. We are taken over one of them 
by a native ferry-man, or woman rather, for this stal¬ 
wart creature who pulls the raft over the stream is a 
woman, in spite of her masculine beard. Native riders, 
male and female, with their invariable lei of bright- 
colored flowers and their unfailing “ Aloha ’ of kindly 


PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


145 


salutation, meet us and pass on. Trains of mules 
carry bags of sugar to the shore, but there seems to 
be no exit for it among the breakers that beat inces¬ 
santly before the cove. In the rear of the sugar-mills, 
long flumes, lifted on high trestle-work, run far as 
eye can see up to the waving cane-fields, and even 
to the belt of trees far beyond. Down these flumes, 
carried again by the willing waters, come the wood 
from the forests and the cane-stalks from the fields. 
These last lie in heaps by the mill side, and go, grind¬ 
ing and ground, through the tremendous presses, and 
come forth with all their juices crushed out of them. 
Henceforth they are known as “ trash,” and after being 
dried in great piles under cover, they serve as fuel to 
boil their own life-blood into the sugar of commerce. 
All these and other processes make up a part of our 
observations at Onomea, where we shall find model 

sugar-mills in full operation. Mr. A-, who is to 

be our host, is an American of the best business type. 
He has brought his plantation and mills to their pres¬ 
ent efficiency only at great expense and by indomi¬ 
table industry, energy, and skill. How any man has 
the courage to attempt the culture of cane, its conver¬ 
sion into sugar, and its exportation to other countries, 
in the face of such obstacles as he has to meet in 
Hawaii, surpasses my limited powers of imagination 
or enterprise. What though this lava soil does pro¬ 
duce five tons to the acre, the business of getting 

10 



146 


“ ALOHA!” 


those tons transported to the shore, and then the cost 
of the sugar plant, as the mill is called, and then the 
gauntlet of wind and wave which the manufactured 
article has to run before it is safely shipped, are 
enough to discourage any but the most resolute of 
planters. The first cost of the ’works at Onomea v r as 
one hundred thousand dollars, and the annual cost of 
running them is thirty thousand. No wonder sugar- 
makers on the Islands must have either reciprocity 
with America or annexation, with its freedom from 
consuming duties. 

Onomea is on a headland, six hundred feet above the 
sea. Two ravines converge at its feet, and the bright 
waters meet there, if not as calmly as in the sweet 
vale of Avoca, still with a rapture of salutation 
which is more in sympathy with this impassioned 
land. A miniature village nestles under its trees, and 
on the height above it rise the roofs and chimneys 
of the sugar-mill, the regularity and stiffness of the 
one made almost picturesque by the rambling and 
varied character of the other. We make the last 
ascent, pass the mill and its attendant houses, and 
dismount before the garden paling which, in true 
Yankee fashion, runs along in front of the dwelling- 
house, and defends a patch of flowers from brute 
invasion. Our hostess comes down the garden path 
with both my truants, to meet and w T elcome her sister, 
Mrs. S-, and myself. This, then, is Onomea, the 



PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


147 


compend of all earthly sweetness and freshness, if 
one may trust Miss Bird s account. 

If we did not think so at that moment, it was be¬ 
cause no worthy sight, any more than a really great 
person, is revealed at its first introduction. Twenty- 
four hours in this upland home nearly brought us to 
our predecessor’s enthusiasm. Like the cane in its 
fields, Onomea grew in sweetness every hour. Its 
domestic life, replete with comfort and unencumbered 
by display; its true simplicity, saved from the possi¬ 
bility of rudeness by refinement and good taste in its 
proprietors, — gave precisely that happy medium be¬ 
tween camp life with its freedom, and city life with 
its slavery, which we so often sigh for at home, but 
fail to find. We had no time to explore its natural 
wonders; an afternoon walk to a deep gorge with a 
dizzy bridge above it was our only excursion. Our 
acquaintance with the forest treasures in the great 
belt of woods behind it must be made at another 
time and in another section of the girdle. 

Here the crowning interest is the very material one 
of sugar-making. I am glad to see it in all its pro¬ 
cesses, and conducted as it is by Mr. A- in the 

most approved manner. The great flumes with their 
rushing water, bringing cane-stalks from the distant 
fields, explain themselves; but the apparatus inside 
the mill needs explanation. My host leads me from 
the blade to the full sugar in the bags, and I see the 



148 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


press, the huge containers where the juice lies sweetly 
sulking; the precipitator; the vacuum-pan or mon¬ 
strous boiler, in which the liquid comes to its re¬ 
quired grossness; the ingenious centrifugals, in 
which the sugar is at length separated from its bur¬ 
den of treacle; and, last of all, the packing-room, 
where the sugar lies like a great sand-bank, waiting 
to be put into bags and shipped. At the time of my 
visit, the negotiations for the reciprocity treaty with 
the United States were still pending, and the life or 
death of the sugar interest was involved in the issue. 
The settlement of that question by the passage of that 
treaty has given an impetus to sugar production 
which will revolutionize the whole country. The 
cultivation of new lands, and the introduction of for¬ 
eign labor and foreign capital which it involves, must 
change the social and political status as much as it 
changes the natural features of the Islands. Hap¬ 
pily there is a leaven of well-bred, Christian character 
already predominant in Hawaii, and in the uncertain 
issue of the future — in the conversion of the bar¬ 
barism of a selfish commerce in the future, as in the 
less difficult conversion of the barbarism of the native 
community in the past — this Christian character and 
influence must be the main dependence. I look to 
these men whom I could name, if it were not invidi¬ 
ous to others equally trustworthy but unknown to 
me, to maintain the high standard of business honor 


PUNA AND ONOMEA. 


149 


and preserve the noble habit of humane interest in 
the humble classes in which they have been nurtured. 
Their fathers did not go to Hawaii for greed. Like 
the land of the Pilgrims, from which the early mis¬ 
sionaries came, Hawaii was colonized for God. It is 
their sons’, to keep it from the world, the flesh, and 
the devil. 

The horses are saddled and waiting at the gate. 

Mrs. S- and Mrs. C- are lifted into their 

side-saddles, so loyal are they to the inconvenient 

ways of civilization. Young C-sits astride the 

pommel of a Mexican saddle, nicely pillowed for his 
greater ease in riding, and behind him a big kanaka 
sits, holding him on and guiding the horse. I navi¬ 
gate the mule. This fellow is a great wag, so I am 

told. He brought Mr. S-down the other day, 

when the first instalment of our party came here, and 
Madame, who is a curious observer of animals, de¬ 
clares that she saw this mule deliberately lift his foot, 

as if to kick Mr. S-, and then just as deliberately 

put it down again, with the threat unfulfilled. That 
was his little joke. Probably out of deference to the 
cloth, he refrained from joking on this journey, and 
we all set out on our return to Hilo in the best of 
health, spirits, and prospects of a safe conduct. The 
native horseman, with my boy in charge, led the way. 
His greater speed often opened a long distance between 
us, and, as we surmounted one side of a ravine, we 







150 


ALOHA ! ” 


could see him disappearing over the summit of the 
opposite side at a rate to which our young horseman 
was not accustomed. We wondered how the boy 
was bearing the separation from us, and the rough- 
and-tumble ride he was having in the embrace of his 
dark-skinned keeper. We found the secret of his 
unexampled content, when we overtook the trio — 
horse, kanaka, and boy — stopping at a wayside sta¬ 
tion. Young C-was blissfully sucking the end 

of a generous stalk of sugar-cane. We saw Debo¬ 
rah, the companion of Miss Bird’s thrilling adventures 
on this road, — a staid, pleasant-looking young matron 
now, happily married to a white husband. Our jour¬ 
ney home was wholly without incident of an exciting 
or thrilling kind, the ride itself being its sufficient 

enjoyment; and when we reached Mr. S-’s house 

again, the dear home-letters we found awaiting us 
there made this best of dwellings more homelike to 
our hearts than ever. 




A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


151 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 

TEAR the village of Puna, in Hawaii, on the 

' crest of an extinct volcano, may be found the 
ruins of a heiau, or heathen temple. I rode there 
one bright morning, and, tying my horse to one of 
the old palm trees that grew beside the ruins, I gave 
myself without reserve to the suggestions of the place 
and the hour. The spot commanded the most varied 
and beautiful scenery among the Hawaiian Islands. 
Seen from this height, the ocean seemed smoothed of 
all its ripples, but the convolutions of glazed and 
deadened surfaces showed what currents were wrest¬ 
ling together there. The black lava shore was every 
moment brightened by jets of white spray thrown 
over it by the heaving sea. Two rounded cones of 
pumice and ashes varied, but could not relieve, the 
long coast-line of barren lava. But this line once 
passed, the green plumes of the coco palm answered 
brightly the signal of the sea. Long stretches of 
native forests were behind them, and, looking further 
inland, both the great mountains came into view: 
Mauna Loa, with his outline so like the bent bow, 
and the cloud of its still active volcano hovering 


152 


ALOHA! ” 


above it with direful remembrance of the “ smoking 
flax; ” and Mauna Kea, the £>erfect mountain, its 
snowy summit 13,800 feet above the sea, and yet so 
gradual and evenly sustained in its elevation*, that it 
seemed like a well-spent life seen in happy review, 
with all its successive steps ordered by the Lord and 
crowned with Heaven’s approval and companionship. 
On the near left, the greenest of pastures covered a 
rolling upland where herds of cattle were grazing. 
A thrifty settlement near by claimed pasture and herd 
as its own, and above the groves of cocoa-nut and 
bread-fruit trees rose a white church-spire, so like the 
country steeples of New England that any one would 
have known its Puritan origin. 

The fresh wind blew among the palms above me, 
making their monstrous fronds strive and groan, and 
all around me, on the ground, the old fruits of the 
coco palms lay, bare and bleached, their hollow eyes 
affecting me as if they had been in reality, and not 
only in imagination, the skulls of the victims who had 
perished on this mountain top. I was alone, far away 
from home, surrounded by novel and imposing scen¬ 
ery, fresh from hearing and reading of the savage 
worship which had been native to this spot, and I 
seemed, under these circumstances, so favorable to 
the working of imagination and sympathy, to come 
nearer to the reality of heathen superstition and 
human sacrifice than I had ever been before. Up this 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


153 


very steep which I had ridden over, the doomed men 
were led or dragged. On these very stones where I 
reposed, their blood had flowed. The same heavens 
stretched over them and made no sign; the same 
hills looked down, beautiful but heedless, consenting 
to their death. There was no pity in the laugh¬ 
ing sea. Remembering this, there came a heartless 
look over earth and sky; but in all the scene there 
was one little speck that showed white above the 
palm trees, that seemed to grow purer and holier and 
sweeter than all the rest. It was the poor, cheap, 
homely old Puritan steeple that told where the vil¬ 
lage church was built. “ He hath no form nor come¬ 
liness; . . . there is no beauty that we should desire 
him.” “ Lift up thine eyes round about, and behold: 
all these gather themselves together, and come to 
thee. As I live, saith the Lord, thou slialt surely 
clothe thee with them all, as with an ornament, and 
bind them on thee, as a bride doeth.” 

We had ridden from Hilo the day before, — twenty- 
five miles, — over a sea of lava as rough and broken 
as a field of ice-hummocks in the Arctic Ocean. On 
our return we met several companies of natives, all 
mounted, on their w r ay to Puna to attend an ordina¬ 
tion service, which, with its conference meetings, was 
to extend over several days. Arriving at Kaau, our 
resting station for the night, we found the veteran 
missionary of Hilo, Dr. Coan, there. Although past 


154 


“ ALOHA!” 


his threescore years and ten, he was started on this 
toilsome ride to give the dignity and fervor of his 
presence to the approaching meetings. No journey¬ 
ing that I have ever undertaken compares in difficulty 
and consequent fatigue with this riding over a lava- 
stone region, where the road is as uneven, winding, 
and slippery as the bed of a mountain stream; but 
this old man seemed insensible to weariness, and im¬ 
pervious alike -to rain or sunstroke. Just from a 
bath in the cool well of Kaau, he greeted us with all 
the freshness of perpetual youth in his expansive 
face, and such abundance in his flowing white hair, 
that it seemed rather the decoration of wisdom 
than the confession of many years. I shall not soon 
forget the story of his early missionary attempts among 
"the savages of Patagonia, wdiicli he told me that 
evening, — how he left home and friends and the 
advances of pleasant parishes in New England, where 
he could easily have settled, and the woman who was 
his betrothed, and sailed off with only one compan¬ 
ion, amid many discouragements, and, as it afterwards 
proved, led by mistaken information in regard to the 
people and the country to which he was bound. 
But deeper than the remembrance of his story of 
mission adventure among the Patagonians is the im¬ 
pression left with me of that evening’s service in the 
grass house of Kaau. We were resting, in. default 
of chairs, on the lauhala mats in which the native 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


155 


houses abound. The ranche-owner and myself were 
stretched on mats by the door ; the native herdsmen 
were grouped opposite us, almost hidden in the 
double darkness of their own skins and the evening 
shades. On the one table of the house stood an as¬ 
tral lamp, and facing it, with rival and superior 
brightness, was the venerable missionary, his Bible 
before him, and his hymn-book, as if eager to open 
its mouth wide with praise, just parted at the se¬ 
lected number. 

The sure, strong, tempered tones of vigorous man¬ 
hood and experienced faith gave forth the epistle in 
English, and then the same lips, speaking Hawaiian, 

— the very language alike of childhood and of prayer, 

— opened with invocation, thanksgiving, and petition. 
Never but once before have I heard a hymn sung 
with such bashful yet manly earnestness as these 
people sang their evening psalm, — that was when the 
wounded soldiers in Fredericksburg, led by Helen 
Gilson, sung “ There is rest for the weary.” The 
very stars, seen through the open doorway, seemed 
crowding to listen, and the great sea said “ Amen.” 

Dr. Coan has labored nearly fifty years in these 
islands, and every house within a hundred miles 
knows and honors him. He has walked all these 
rough ways, frequently going forty miles, on parish 
business. In 1869 he had received 12,627 people 
into his church, — the largest church roll of any 


156 


“ ALOHA!? 


minister in his generation. More than 2,000 were 
received on one day, although their conversion was 
not of that ephemeral sort. They had attested their 
sincerity by a long period of previous inquiry and pro¬ 
bation, but they were formally admitted to the church 
on one day. 

If I dwell on the work of this man, it is not because 
he is the only or chief missionary, but because he is a 
fine example of his kind, and because I happened to 
meet and see him in the midst of his parochial duties. 
In Hilo, where his home is, I lived near him and his 
large native church, and could hear the daily call of 
his sonorous bell, summoning young men to their 
classes or the people to their prayers. It revived the 
memory of college privileges nearer home as I saw 
the students of Father Lyman’s native academy come 
trooping over the field and down the road in apparel 
which showed the haste if not the eagerness of their 
devotions, and disappear within the portals of the 
old-fashioned New England meeting-house. On Sun¬ 
days, the flood of praise which filled the church 
could only be equalled by the rains which fall in 
Hilo. It was a pleasure, unique to me, to preach to 
the unfamiliar audience which gathered there. Dr. 
Coan’s hearty and prompt insistence on my preaching 
for him quite overcame every obstacle of divergent 
religious sect and foreign tongue. For the first, if he 
did not mind it, I had no desire to ; and for the sec- 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


15 / 


ond, I had already tried speaking with an interpreter, 
and liked it. Undoubtedly it robs speech of its con¬ 
tinuous flow, and takes all the rush out of one’s elo¬ 
quence, to be obliged to stop at every sentence while 
the interpreter translates. But what is lost in dan 
is compensated for by the gain in conciseness and 
solid contents. I accepted it as a wholesome disci¬ 
pline in the art of matterful preaching, and would 
recommend it as a good method of training in our 
divinity schools. But the lasting satisfaction of this 
service in Dr. Coan’s church is not in its compulsory 
deliberation of speech : it is in the responses of bright- 
eyed intelligence catching the speaker’s meaning ; the 
revelations of a common humanity in people who live 
the wide world apart; and the hope of some unseen 
good accomplished, which is always the preacher's 
earnest of reward. When I went to church that 
day and found the veteran pastor standing in the 
doorway, welcoming with beaming face and hearty 
grasp of the hand the people as they entered ; when 
I saw among the congregation not only Hawaiians but 
Chinese, and learned that some of them, too, belonged 
to the church, — it gave me a sense of the brotherhood 
of man and a corresponding joy in this manifestation of 
it, with which the intellectual consent given to this doc¬ 
trine, as I have heard it gloriously preached at home, 
compared only as some fine description of a pine-apple 
compares with the real taste of one. Again, in the 


158 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


church, as so often before in the social life and busi¬ 
ness walks of these islands, had I been struck with 
their cosmopolitan character. The whole world in 
little is there, and I know of no other place where 
the people of all nations unite so happily without 
losing their distinctive flavor. Something of this is 
due, no doubt, to the mild demands of the local 
government upon the inhabitants; but how much 
more must be credited to the prevalence of that re¬ 
ligion which makes man our brother, and God the 
common Father of all mankind! 

I was saying that I met Dr. Coan on his way to the 
convention at Puna. You know the man better, now 
that I have described something of his work. Strong, 
devoted, shrewd, reverent, emotional, yet always self- 
contained, dignified, yet of most gracious manner, he 
seems in face and figure, no less than in recorded 
deeds, a fine type of his class. Goldsmith’s vicar, 
whose “ gown the children plucked to share the good 
man’s smile,” was not more sweetly venerable. I 
could only think of that saintly father of the Deserted 
Village, when I saw Dr. Coan coming along the rural 
streets of Hilo. He came up the road leading to his 
church, one Sunday, at the head of a sad procession 
of mourners bringing the body of an honored woman 
in that little town. She had died suddenly, and all 
hearts were touched with sympathy for her family. 
The great church was filled with people. No chief or 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


159 


“ chiefess ” would have had a larger funeral. And yet 
this woman was only a nurse and day-laborer. Her 
worth, and not her rank, was her glory. A consistent 
Christian woman, everybody agreed. If only one 
such jewel were found in the crown of the good mis¬ 
sionary’s rejoicing, it would be enough to justify his 
labors. 

I do not like to argue the cause of foreign missions 
in a Christian community. The necessity for such an 
argument would reflect too much upon its Christianity. 

“ Do you think,” asked a merchant of an earnest 
religious man and merchant of Honolulu, “ that the 
mission to the Hawaiian Islands has really done 
the people much good ? ” “ That depends,” was the 

spirited reply, “ on whether the people of the Hawaiian 
Islands have souls or not.” I would be willing to 
rest the case on much lower ground than that, un¬ 
assailable as that would be; for if the benefits of 
the Christian religion were for this world only, it 
would be pre-eminently true that Christianity has 
blessed and redeemed these people. The story of its 
advent into Hawaii may not be freshly remembered. 
The first missionaries were sent forth to their work 
from Park Street Church in Boston, October 15, 1819. 
One month after they had started, idolatry and the 
cruel system of tabu in the Islands were overthrown 
by the free act of king and high-priest, so that when 
they arrived there, after a five months’ voyage, they 


160 


ALOHA ! ’ 


found the “ isles literally waiting for God’s law.” No 
wonder Bingham took this for his text, on that first 
Sunday, when he preached on board the brig “ Thad- 
deus,” that "Mayflower” of the Pacific,and the people 
gathered on the shore and waited for his word. Since 
that day, forty ordained missionaries, six physicians, 
twenty lay teachers, and eighty-three female mission¬ 
aries, have been sent to these islands by the American 
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. The 
people of the United States have contributed more 
than a million of dollars to the support of this mis¬ 
sion. What have been the returns ? The statistics 
in 1863 say: Fifty-six Protestant churches formed, 
to which have been admitted sixty-seven thousand 
members. Then follow the establishment of common 
schools, the translation and publication and spread of 
the Bible, and a large amount of educational and 
Christian literature. If missionary influence were fol¬ 
lowed into all the departments where its consecrated 
agents have worked for the good of the kingdom, it 
would unquestionably be found true that not only 
religion, education, literature, indeed the very exist¬ 
ence of a written language, but the government itself, 
owed its best features to Christian teaching and super¬ 
intendence. The first utterance of the Bill of Rights, 
granted by the king in 1839, — a paper which corre¬ 
sponds to our Declaration of Independence, — says, 
in Bible phrase, that “ God has made of one blood all 


4 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


161 


nations of men;” and the motto of the kingdom to-day 
is, that “ Righteousness is the foundation of the land.” 
In the code of laws adopted in 1846 we find it pro¬ 
vided that “the religion of Jesus Christ shall con¬ 
tinue to be the established national religion of the 
Hawaiian Islands.” Thus early and late, in form and 
in substance, is the government based on Christian 
principles and profession. 

To appreciate the extent of this change, in little 
more than half a century, one must know something 
of the land and people before the missionaries went 
to them. In their first intercourse with the white 
men who came to their islands they seem to have 
been friendly, generous, and unsuspecting. The mur¬ 
der of Captain Cook, which has been for years almost 
the only thing knoAvn about the Hawaiian Islands, 
was not an act of unprovoked hostility or especial 
cruelty. They had received him and his crew with 
lavish hospitality, seeing in Cook, as they supersti- 
tiously believed, one of their long-lost gods, — Lono. 
He practised on their superstition, receiving honors, 
worship, and gifts as a god,—not a very creditable pro¬ 
ceeding, surely. He paid the penalty of his effrontery 
with his life; for when, on being wounded, he groaned, 
the people cried, “ Can a god groan ? ” and immedi¬ 
ately despatched him. His treatment by the natives, 
on the whole, demonstrates their superstition, their 

simplicity, but hardly their cruelty. They were 

ll 


162 


ALOHA ! ” 


habitual thieves, and had no idea of what is meant 
by domestic purity. Infanticide was not uncommon. 
Idolatry was everywhere practised, and human sac¬ 
rifices were freely offered to their deities. Add to 
these traits and customs the devastating effects of 
frequent wars, intemperance, and licentiousness, and 
enough is known to make the comparison between 
Hawaii fifty years before and Hawaii fifty years after 
the entrance of Christian missions an argument of 
sufficient force on the side of missionary success. The 
numerical decline of the native population of these 
islands began before the missionaries arrived, and is 
due to causes no power on earth can wholly remove. 
The best authority on this subject—Mr. Jarvis — says 
that Christianity has really arrested a decay already 
fearfully active before it came to the Islands. But 
whether this can be claimed or not, there is no ques¬ 
tion as to its beneficent influence upon the characters 
• 

and social customs of the people. 

Mr. Damon, in a review of the first fifty years of 
the missions to the Hawaiian Islands, says : “ The 
missionaries and their coadjutors may not have accom¬ 
plished all that their ardent desires led them to antici¬ 
pate, or all that zealous writers have represented, but 
this one fact has been achieved, through their toils 
and labors, accompanied by God’s rich blessing,— Chris¬ 
tianity has here become firmly established, and from 
this point as a centre Christian missionaries have been 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


163 


sent to the Marquesan Islands and Micronesia.” He 
alludes in this to the missionary zeal and enterprise 
of the Hawaiian converts themselves, who support 
and supply with preachers a mission of their own to 
the islands of the South Pacific. In this very fact 
they show that they have taken Christianity in its 
typical form ; for where the spirit of Christ is, there 
always is the spirit of missions. I was in Honolulu 
when the “ Morning Star,” the mission-ship which 
makes an annual voyage among the stations in the 
Pacific, arrived there. She brought glad tidings from 
afar; for there, too, in those lost islands, so far away 

from the civilized centres of the world, the word of 

✓ 

Jesus Christ had taken such hold that the queen of. 
one of the islands — Obodinyeh — had left her pleas¬ 
ant home among the hilly and fruitful lands, and 
sailed away from her kingdom and her people to carry 
the news of salvation to the low coral islands further 
west. Such examples of Christian heroism as this 
can hardly be surpassed, if they can be equalled, 
among our own more favored communities ; and they 
show, beyond all cavil, the receptiveness of these peo¬ 
ple to the Christian spirit. 

The story of Kapiolani and her heroic attempt to 
deliver her people from the terrors of their heathen 
worship, is just as decisive of the thoroughness of 
her own conversion to Christianity, and even more 
dramatic in some of its incidents. Her famous visit 


164 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


to Kilauea, and demonstration of the unreality of 
Pele, its dreaded goddess, is only equalled by the 
Bible account of the contest between Elijah and the 
prophets of Baal. Determined to destroy, if possible, 
the superstitious belief in Pele, which had weighed 
upon her land for generations, and been the source of 
so much cruelty and wrong, Kapiolani left her home 
in Kona and walked to Kilauea. In vain her terri¬ 
fied and affectionate dependants clung to her by the 
way, and tried to change her purpose. Over the 
hard and shining blocks of lava, through cinders and 
ashes, under great ohia trees that shot out their 
tongues of fire at her, as if to warn her of her ap¬ 
proaching destruction, — on and up she walked, until 
she came to the rim of the great black pit, and saw 
beyond the floes of fresh lava, still glowing in their 
seams and crevices with consuming heat, the raging, 
swelling, liquid fire. Then picking the ohelo berries 
which grew beside her, and which it was not lawful to 
eat until the first-fruits had been thrown into the vol¬ 
cano, in honor of its divinity, she went down into the 
pit, eating the forbidden berries, and walking fearlessly 
over the uncertain sea, until she came to the shore of the 
blood-red lake, burning and spouting with unquench¬ 
able fire; and there, in the very stronghold of Pele’s 
power, she denied the heathen divinity’s existence, 
and prayed to the one true God. In Judge Fornander’s 
studious book on the Polynesian Races, I find it stated 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 


165 


that the Pel or Pele of the Hawaiians is probably the 
same as the Bel or Baal of the Phoenicians. Starting 
from one cradle, in Western Asia, this devastating 
superstition made its way to the shores of the Medi¬ 
terranean and to the islands of the mid-Pacific. But 
in the fulness of time another and diviner faith went 
sailing westward, encircling the world with its light 
and life, and dulling the glow of Pele’s lake and Bel’s 
shining idol, with its superior illumination. It went 
with Paul the length of the Mediterranean, and sent 
the divinities that crowded its shores sighing from 
their fanes; it crossed the Atlantic with Columbus, 
the prevailing motive of whose voyage was the ad¬ 
vancement of Christianity ; it occupied the new world 
in the name of Christ, and years afterward sent its 
missionaries to the Pacific isles, to conquer them for 
God. If we could see and know what cruel rites, 
involving human sacrifice ; what deadly worship, per¬ 
petuating human ignorance and hate; what tyrannous 
inequalities, shielded by the death-line of a pitiless 
tabu; what habitual warfare and shameless vice; 
what rooted wrongs, persistent injuries, established 
lies, and low customs, — this rebuking, renewing, re¬ 
forming religion of Jesus Christ has met and over¬ 
thrown, we should not spend our strength in needless 
criticisms upon its earlier evidences, its lesser miracles, 
local adaptations, or passing accompaniments, but, con- 


166 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


vinced and converted by its abiding purity and power, 
we should go forth to share its blessing with all 
mankind. 

If I am asked how the Hawaiian Christians average 
in life and character, and whether they illustrate very 
brilliantly the Christian virtues, I must admit that 
they are hardly more successful in that than the aver¬ 
age Christian in our own country. Why should they 
be ? And is it not enough to justify and glorify all 
that has been done for them that in half a century 
they have risen from superstition, war, and ignorance, 
to a condition of peace among themselves and with 
all mankind, freedom from idolatry and human sac¬ 
rifice, general comfort, and the nearest approach to 
universal education known among any people ? 
Nearly every adult upon the Islands can read and 
write. If you would realize how great an achieve¬ 
ment this is, you have only to imagine the Indians 
of North America, after five times as long an appren¬ 
ticeship, and with all the advantages (?) of close con¬ 
tact with the United States; converted to Christianity, 
taught in public schools, obedient to just author¬ 
ity, delivered from warfare, and pursuing honest 
callings. 

Do you say, “ Why spend your strength on these 
perishing nations ? Are they not dying out ? ” I 
answer : We are not competent to make that objec- 


/ 


A MISSIONARY CHAPTER. 167 

tion. It is not open to men who are themselves 
hastening to decay to question the value of Chris¬ 
tianity to a dying race. The same consideration 
would dispose as justly of their own claims upon the 
blessings of the Christian religion. 


168 


“ ALOHA! ” 


WAILUKU. 

| ^ VERY thing that happened in Hilo is memo- 
' rable to me, and every thing I saw there is as 
clearly visible to my closed eyes as to-day’s landscape 
is when I look around me. It is as difficult to leave 
the subject, in this story of Hawaiian travel, as it 
was to leave the place itself when I was there. To 
omit from these pages the account of my excursion to 
the falls of the river Wailuku, and the description of the 
surf-bathing by the natives, would be like describing 
America and omitting Niagara. Not that the Wai¬ 
luku Falls bear any comparison in size to the American 
lake-fall, but relatively to the island they are as large 
and interesting. The first of them is only two or 
three miles from Hilo, and is as easily reached as 
any thing can be which lies beyond the slippery, 
muddy, and uneven bridle-paths which pass for roads 
in Hawaii. Anuenue, the native name of this fall, 
or Rainbow Fall, in English, is unique among water¬ 
falls. The ^entire river precipitates itself over a nat¬ 
ural arch of basalt, and leaps a hundred feet into a 
green lake below. When very full, the stream is 
separated into two branches on the edge of the arch, 


inbow Fall, Hilo. 













































































WAILUKU. 


169 


but these branches unite again before the lake is 
reached. The high cliffs on either side are decorated 
with ferns in plumes and streamers, and a dwarf 
growth of trees runs along their summits. The arch 
is as perfect as if made by hand, and under it, behind 
the falling river, is a deep recess filled with the shadow 
and spray of the descending water. It would be 
difficult to say whether the sense of form or of color 
is most charmed by this perfect gem, already set by 
Nature with matchless taste. 

Nothing purer in tint could be found in the beryl 
itself than the delicate green of the fall as it broke 
over the brown basalt rock, and the deeper emerald of 
the lake below only rivalled the jewel above in clearness 
and delicacy. Clothe the slender figure with snowy 
white, and let its floating drapery be interwoven with 
prismatic hues when the sun comes forth from his 
chamber in the skies, and if that splendid bridegroom 
can find another bride more worthy of him on the 
earth, I have never seen her. 

A visit to Anuenue is within the reach of every 
traveller to Hilo, at any and all seasons. But the 
trip to Puka-o-maui, the falls on the same river six 
or seven miles inland, and hidden in the thick of the 
great forest belt, is only feasible when there has been 
comparatively little rain, and the road is delivered of 
its floods and swamps. Our host and hostess had 
been watching the weather for a fortnight, with a 


170 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


view of giving us this rare and delightful excursion. 
The clouds agreed with their kind intention, and one 
fine day in March our party started for a day in the 
woods and along the wild and variable course of 

the Wailuku. Dr. Wetmore, Captain K-, of the 

“ Three Brothers,” — a ship then in port, — and I 
started in advance of the other members of the 
party, in order to explore a certain portion of the for¬ 
est a little off the direct path to the Natural Bridge. 
The Doctor and I were in search of the Botrychium, 
a rare fern which had been found once or twice in 

that neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. S-, Miss 

R-, Madame, and John, the accomplished servant 

who waited upon our table at Hilo, were the other 
division of the party, and we planned to meet at 
noon at our common destination. Off we started, — 
the Doctor, the Captain, and I, — at a holiday pace, de¬ 
termined to make the most of the only tolerable road 
we should find that day. We were soon enough re¬ 
duced to moderation, however, and plodded patiently 
upwards and onwards, until we were deep in the 
woods. Then began the hunt which was destined to 
have its conclusion very far from Hilo. Arrived at 
or near the supposed habitat of the Botrychium, we 
tethered our steeds to a tree and explored on foot the 
tangle of living and dead vegetation which makes up 
these Hilo woods. We found nearly every other fern 
in the catalogue except the one we were in search of. 





WAILUKU. 


171 


At any other time and in any other mood than that 
of exclusive interest in that one specimen, we should 
have been enraptured by the richness and variety of 
our collection; but the Botrychium wanting, all was 
wanting. Rather crestfallen at our failure, we made 
our way back from the side-path we had followed 
to the trail which led to the Natural Bridge, and in 
due time caught up with our party. They were in 
the best of spirits. Success had crowned all their 
labors. Having nothing at heart but the -full enjoy¬ 
ment of every thing they met, every step of the way 
had given them enjoyment. They were just sitting 
down to their noontide lunch, only waiting for our 
arrival to give the signal for beginning. They had 
explored the remarkable bed of the Wailuku above 
the falls; had seen the singular cave into which its 
water flowed; had wondered at the temerity of the 
native swimmers who had dared to enter that dark¬ 
ness, with the river as their guide, taking the risk of 
coming out into the sunlight again in safety; had lin¬ 
gered on the brink of Puka-o-maui, and shuddered at 
its height; and on their way to it they had stopped, 
as we had, and seen the veil-like waving and lapsing 
of the river as it flowed in two widely separate 
streams down the face of a steep but not quite per¬ 
pendicular cliff. The same green flood at its feet 
which we saw at Anuenue, and then the Wailuku 
ran on to new wrestling with the black and gray 


172 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


rocks which disputed its passage to the sea. On 
comparing our spoils, after lunch, and joining in ad¬ 
miration over the graceful Gleichenise, the richly 
seeded Polypodia, the filmy Trichomenes enwreath- 
ing the dead trees, the brown-backed Acrostichum, 
the branching Marattia, what does Madame produce 
from her fern-press but a veritable Botrychium, — 
the very fern we had gone out of our way to find! 
She had picked it up on the direct route to the falls, 
and innocently presented it to our astonished eyes, 
asking what it could be. The sequel of the hunt for 
the Botrychium may as well be given here. Wher¬ 
ever we went, from that day onward, our eyes were 
open for this fern. In Kona, in Maui, in Oahu, we 
were always expecting and never finding it. The 
few poor specimens obtained that day at Hilo were 
the only ones we brought home with us to America. 
But now, behold what pains we travellers take to 
- search the world for the blessing which lies in our 
own homes! The following summer, we picked finer 
specimens of Botrychium literally a stone’s-throw 
from our own door in New England, than can be 
found in all Hawaii. 

On our way home from the Natural Bridge, that 
afternoon, we left the beaten path once more, to see 
Pei-Pei Falls, and their peculiar surroundings. Here 
the Wailuku spreads as it nears the edge of a high 
cliff, and falls in several parts : the larger one a direct 


WAILUKU. 


173 


plunge of heavy waters ; the others slender, trailing 
streams, lingering on the face of the cliff as they de¬ 
scend. The meeting of the waters in the pool below 
is concealed from view by a natural castle of rock, 
which stands midway in the river-bed and guards the 
pass. Lesser blocks of lava rock are thrown in ad¬ 
mirable confusion up and down the stream,, and we 
sit on one of them and look up the river to the falls, 
or down to the green pools which lie below. Among 
these pools are some which are called boiling pots, 
because they resemble great caldrons with water in 
full ebullition within them. They are natural pits in 
the bed of the river, connected with each other bv 
hidden conduits below the surface. Their connection 
is clearly proved by the reappearance in the pool 
below of whatever is dropped in the one above. The 
natural history of this one river, from its source on 
the sides of Mauna Kea, fed by its melting snows, 
through the unexplored forests, along the path laid 
out for it by volcanic eruption and earthquake, 
through the mysterious lava galleries and caves, now 
broken to fragments on the sides of Puka-o-maui, and 
united again in the basin below, now torn into 
shreds by the rough carding of the rocks it encoun¬ 
ters in its pathway, and thrown as wool into the 
great bin behind Pei-Pei, and then drawn out as yarn 
from the distaff, whirled and wound in the pools be¬ 
low, and finally woven into the dazzling garment in 


174 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


which Anuenue robes herself before descending to 
the sea, — would make a magnificent study of the 
manufacture of Nature. 

But our time is short for even a passing glance at 
a few only of its wonderful processes. Already the 
waning day admonishes us that we must return to 
Hilo. I remember that ride home as the time of my 
first realization of the perfect adaptation of these 
Hawaiian horses to the land they traverse. It is 
mistaken and unnecessary kindness to let them mope 
over these slippery ways. Experience has made their 
feet as sure as a goat’s; and, like the goat, they can 
scamper over the rocks better than they can walk. 
It is only a question of how much the rider can en¬ 
dure of this lively agitation. Challenged by the 
daring speed of my nearest companion, the spirited 

and fearless Miss R-, I set out on my return side 

by side with her, in true Hawaiian negligence of neck 
and head. We got back in time for a late dinner, so 
delighted with the novelty of the day’s sights that we 
forgot to be weary with the day’s travel. 

I had heard and read so much of the skill of the 
natives in swimming and their perfect domestication 
in the sea, that I very much wished to see some 
exhibition of their aquatic accomplishments. Our 
friends from New l"ork came home one evening from 
a walk to the rapids of the Wailuku, much amused 
and astonished at an incident in their walk. They 



WAILUKU. 


175 


had met a native man and woman on the shore, who, 
like themselves, wished to make their way home. 
But instead of taking the toilsome way overland, 
these accomplished travellers quietly embarked upon 
the river, and shot the rapids as if they had 
been fishes. There is a point on the river sixty 
or seventy feet above deep water, from which men 
leap into the flood below. When Governor Dominis 
of Oahu sent word one morning that there would be 
an exhibition of surf-bathing at eleven o’clock, we 
were all eager to attend. The governor was visiting 
Hilo, and being, by marriage, a brother of the king, 
his wishes were received as commands by the loyal 
people. Promptly at eleven we went to the wharf. 
A large party of Americans, chaperoned by Mrs. A. 
L. Stone of San Francisco, was there before us. 
Officers of the “ Myrmidon,” the British ship in which 
Governor Dominis had come to Hilo from Honolulu, 
were also in attendance. The entire commercial and 
trading population of Hilo was out,— a matter of three 
or four store-keepers and their clerks. A larger 
crowd of Hawaiians lined the shore, and about a 
dozen men, in bathing-suits of the most economical 
dimensions and carrying each of them a long board, 
more like a laundry-board divested of its cloth than 
any thing else, were leaping from the rocks and swim¬ 
ming among the breakers. The usual course of the 
sea in this harbor is to start with a slight curl of the 


176 


“ ALOHA! ” 


lip just opposite the mouth of the Wailuku River, 
and then gradually break into a broad, good-natured 
laugh, running all along the curving beach beyond 
the little pier. If a skilful surf-bather can get his 
board to the front, where the roller first begins, and 
keep it just on the edge of the advancing wave, he 
will be carried with increasing swiftness on to the 
final break-up of the sea in the surf upon the shore. 
A very slight maladjustment of the saddle on these 
watery coursers will unseat the most accomplished 
rider. Again and again, amid shouts of laughter 
from the native crowd on shore and unnecessary 
sighs of anxiety from the uninitiated foreigners, these 
surf-riders were upset and submerged in the rushing 
waters. Hardly would they disappear before their 
shining heads would come up again in the rear of 
the wave that had thrown them, and they would 
push out further into the sea, to mount the next con¬ 
venient roller. They rode their surf-boards as boys 
coast downhill, flat upon their faces, and seemed to 
keep themselves in place by a timely stroke or hold¬ 
fast of their hands. The toil of swimming off with 
their big boards after each ride, and beginning again, 
would have spoiled the sport for less easy swimmers. 
As in coasting, one needs the excitement of a rapid 
descent to sustain the labor of returning to the start¬ 
ing-point ; but to these natural swimmers it was all 
sport. The dilemma of the landsman wdio, comparing 


WAILUKU. 


1 77 


tlie perils of the shore with those of the sea, declared 
that in case of an accident on land, “ There you are,” 
but on the sea, “Where are you?” was no dilemma to 
them. Under water or above it, was equally home. 
And when their run was a success, and prone on their 
shooting rafts they came swift as an arrow shot from 
a bow, in one triumphant rush, from far away, 
almost to the rocks at our feet, it gave me a new 
sense of the beauty and worth of physical perfection. 
“ Punch ” says that, in case of accident, “ absence of 
body is better than presence of mind.” But there is 
such a thing as bodily presence which can almost 
defy accident. These men are displaying it this very 
hour. See that man on his surf-board coming in on 
the perilous edge of the wave. He is actually stand¬ 
ing upright on the tottering chip beneath him. With 
arms outstretched and body held in perfect poise he 
comes, fearless of fall, because equally ready for every 
issue of his venture. The water seems to confess 
him as its master, and carries him with a proud 
docility like a well-broken horse. The crowd watches 
him with breathless interest. Some of them know the 
difficulty of that ride. Nearer, nearer, he comes, 
riding the surf from the beginning to the end of the 
course, and then leaping, with the grace and freedom 
of a circus-rider, into the deep, and swimming, amid 
the plaudits of the spectators, to the shore. A chase 

of shining, brown-coated fellows, like crabs, over the 

12 


178 


ALOHA!” 


rocks to the shelter where they have left their gar¬ 
ments of civilization, and the show is over. The 
audience slowly and contentedly retire. Again, at 
the governor’s mandatory wish, some natives climb 
the coco palms that overlook the pier, and throw 
down cocoa-nuts for our refreshment. 

The fruit is still young enough to yield a smooth 
sweet pulp, instead of the hard and dry crust which 
passes for cocoa-nut in America. The milk in these 
cocoa-nuts has never been soured or skimmed. We 
drink the cloudy nectar, and then eat the soft lining 
of the cup which held it. Delightful it is to live in 
a community as truly refined as any in Europe or 
America, and yet so free from useless conventionality 
that one can walk the streets eating bananas and 
cocoa-nuts without compromising his gentility. 

Am I painting Hilo in too bright colors ? Am I 
making it an Eden, safe from wrong and sorrow, 
because literally free from serpents? Then let me dip 
my brush in some darker tint, and put in the shadows. 
What is the woful sound which comes from that con¬ 
fused company which is coming along the sea-side 
road and making for the pier? As they come nearer, 

I see two women, — one old, but redeemed for the 
moment from the repulsivencss of mingled age and 
disease by the pathos of her fate; the other young, 
and to the inexperienced eye blooming and well. Both 
are lepers. They are going to the boat, which will 


WAILUKU. 


179 


soon take them away from their families and friends 
for ever. It is the farewell of death, without its rest 
to the dying or its consolation to the bereaved. The 
girl’s mother throws her arms about her, and weeps 
and wails with the agony of despair. Never on 
earth, unless the mother herself should fall a victim 
to the disease and be banished to Molokai, will she 
see her child again. Neighbors and relatives and 
friends weep and wail together, and the poor, fright¬ 
ened girl, dazed with the tumult about her and her 
inability to imagine her coming exile, stares, open-eyed 
and tearless, at the frantic company. They have 
decked her in the brightest leis, in real pity but seem¬ 
ing mockery of her misfortune; and one after another, 
careless of possible contagion to themselves, embrace 
and kiss the lepers as they take their departure. It 
seems a cruel remedy, — the forcible exportation of 
all leprous people in the Hawaiian Islands to one 
great prison valley on the island of Molokai. But 
they are kindly treated there. The government is 
responsible for their care. The island is one of the 
most beautiful in the group, and the valley in which 
they are immured is said to be unsurpassed in 
grandeur and fertility. Still the fact remains that 
their home is a prison, a life-long hospital, and no 
health, abundance or beauty in land can hide the 
ugliness of leprosy or mitigate the misfortune of its 
victims. Nor are these islands free from other forms 


180 


ALOHA ! ” 


of disease. Death is no stranger here. The rapid 
diminution of the native inhabitants — from 130,000 
in 1832, to 44,088 in 18/8—shows how busily he has 
been at work. This is not the place to discuss the 
causes of this striking decline. But to those which 
have been adduced—namely, foreign diseases, alcohol, 
too rapid change from rude to civilized ways of living 
and consequent sterility—may be added the astonish¬ 
ing ease with which a Hawaiian dies. Let him 
imagine that he is going to die on a certain day not 
far removed, and die he will. He has only to fancy 
that some malignant neighbor is “ praying him to 
death,” as he calls it, and his early death is sure. 
This remnant of superstition is by no means rare. 

Every neighborhood furnishes examples to-day of 
death proceeding from this cause alone. Even Chris¬ 
tian converts succumb to this fatal delusion, and pine 
and die, if they once believe that they have roused the 
enmity of one of these assassins-by-prayer. I saw a 
large family of orphans in one of the Hawaiian asy¬ 
lums, whose mother had been wholly unable, either 
by love of her offspring or faith in her religion, to 
shake off the influence of this evil eye. Whatever the 
connection between mind and body may be, it is cer¬ 
tain that the bodies of these people are quite subser¬ 
vient to the mind which has resolved to die. Add to this 
and all the other elements of dissolution the despera¬ 
tion into which illness plunges these childish people, 


WAILUKU. 


181 


so that they fly for cure to any thing which gives tem¬ 
porary relief, and the cause of their decline in numbers 
becomes no mystery. 

The startling sound of their wailing is the one 
token that even Hawaii is not Paradise. I sit on 
the high veranda, with Eden’s garden all about me; 
a bird in the mango tree is singing, “ It’s raining ; it’s 
raining ; hear it rain ! ” And very likely it is raining; 
but there is no terror or real unpleasantness in these 
renewing floods. The daring children are walking 
far out upon the long branches of the great tamarind 
tree by the church. There is a merry rout in the 
school-yard. But suddenly a sound, in which the 
plaint of the dove is blended with the rapid pulsing 
of his cooing, comes mournfully to my ear. I ask the 
meaning of this note, and learn that it is the wailing 
of the natives for their dead. I shall never forget the 
heartache we felt in our Hilo home when the burden 
of this lamentation w T as raised for the faithful woman 
who had served equally as servant and respected 
friend in the household. Moi-moi was suddenly 
stricken down with apoplexy on Friday evening, and 
died the same night. Our first assurance of her death 
came from the direction of the little house in which 
her husband lived, and to which she had been carried 
soon after her attack. The dove-like wailing, indefi¬ 
nitely prolonged and often repeated, told us that all 
was over. 


182 


ALOHA ! ” 


Mourn ! birds in your tamarind-bowers, 

Sing soft! sing low ! 

Moi-moi, like the ripe fruit, is fallen, 

Sing low ! sing low ! 

A rose-apple drops in the garden, 

Sing soft ! sing low ! 

Moi-moi has fallen, has fallen, 

Sing low ! sing low ! 

Dark are the leaves of the mango, 

Sing soft! sing low ! 

Bright are its green-gold fruit-drops, 

Sing low ! sing low ! 

On the ground they are lying, lying ! 

Sing soft! sing low ! 

All the world is dying, dying ! 

Sing low ! sing low ! 

But I cannot let my last word to Hilo be a lamen¬ 
tation. How can I best collect and blend into one 
focus of commemorative photography my recollections 
of that place ? Prose is too tame; poetry too hazard¬ 
ous. And yet it must be one or the other. Reader, 
you shall call it either. 

ALOHA ! HILO ! — HILO ! ALOHA ! 

Three rounded hills, that once were capped with flame, 

But now stand, clothed with green, from top to toe, 
Beckon across the harbor to our ship. 

Sight them above the church! now, pilot, as we go. 

An island tufted with the coco palm, 

Edged with white sand and based on lava block, 

Is anchored close to shore, and like a boat 

It seems, among the heaving waves, to toss and rock. 


WAILUKU. 


A bluff like Erin’s, green-clad, ocean-bound, 

Forbids and tempts us on the other side. 

Ah, yes, we long thy verdant couch to share, 

But dare not trust thy surging, breaking tide. 

Midway the channel takes us as we sail, 

And bows of promise circle from the prow ; 

While in our wake the troubled waters flow 
Far out to sea, and leave us, careless how 

The busy world maintains its noisy life. 

Go ! wrinkled care, and troubled waters, cease ! 

This is the shore where Hope’s renewing wave, 

One moment dying, lives the next as Peace. 

Hark how the rough sea hurries to the beach 
Bude and impetuous, like a stubborn will, 

And foams and chafes, while the untroubled land 
Eepeats Christ’s admonition : “ Peace, be still ! ” 

See, from the wharf that just escapes the surf 
Two boats are leaping with long, sweeping stroke 

And groups of men and women in the street 
Signal, Aloha ! ere the word is spoke. 

0 children of the Sun ! we come to you 

From delving in the mines of thought and deed ; 

Sick are we, for the air, the light, the warmth, 

On which your glowing bodies daily feed. 

Snatch us from thought, and let us ride with you 
On ringing beach, and up the dizzy steep ; 

Plunge with us in the sea, and show us how 
You shoot the rapids, and the cliffs o’erleap. 

Teach us the secret of your cheerfulness, 

Your full content at tables that seem bare 

To our fastidious sense, and help us learn 
In simple tastes to find abundant fare. 


184 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


One moment, rocking by the little pier ; 

The next, caught up by strong and friendly hands : 

A ^sea of faces smiling at our fear, 

The great sea laughing at the trembling sands. 

Oh ! sweet to foot of man is solid earth ! 

Clay cleaves to clay, dust unto dust'is dear; 

And I in very ecstasy of joy could kiss 

This land, nor blush to feel the rising tear. 

Along the causev T ay, past the village store, 

Up the sequestered street, whose tropic shade, 

Fanned by banana leaves and freshly coursed 

By wayside stream, rather for rest than walk seems made, 

Together let us go. And where the street 

Stops midway ’tween the court-house and the home, 

There let us stop, and learn how passing sweet 
It is to bide, while thought and memory roam. 

* ■'* % 

How sweet to rest between the arms of love 
Mercy and Justice offer to mankind ! 

And know that even so the great world lies 
In God’s embrace, as it shall one day find. 

Again the‘lily blooms beside the porch ; 

Again the roses scent the lingering air, 

And ferns uplift their crozier by the door, 

Guarding the household with religious care. 

Again you stand, dear friends, and bid us come 

Make your home our home, and your best set forth. 

Oh ! was there lack or coldness in our speech, 

The lack or coldness of our frozen North, 

Forgive it. Underneath the snow and ice 
The grateful crocus waits to be set free ; 

And our cup’s thankfulness is filled to-night 
With the warm vintage of sweet memory. 


WAILUKU. 


185 


We thank you. And in weary times to come, 

When every beggar at the door goes fed 
Save friendship, hungriest of all, we ’ll say, 

“ Friendship still lives in Hilo. ’Tis not dead.” 

I know not if the voyages yet to come 
Will ever bring me to your shore again ; 

But I do love thee so, that 1 could ask 

E’en from the bliss we hope, for this world’s pain, 

Just time enough to see thee once again. 

Stay, angel of deliverance! I would cry, 

Grant me one look at Hilo ere we go. 

Heaven lies that way. Methinks, ’tis somewhere nigh. 




186 


“ ALOHA 1 ” 


“ KAAWALOA.” 

I T was black midnight when we dropped into 
Kealakakua Bay. It might have been the bot¬ 
tom of a well, for all we could see. Indeed, the 
impenetrable darkness around us, overhung by a bit 
of star-spangled sky, rather encouraged this view of 
the situation, and we might have fallen into sympa¬ 
thetic musing upon the likeness between our fortunes 
and those of Joseph, if the business of landing had 
not made a strong claim upon our attention. Egyp¬ 
tian bondage, provided it was on land, had no terrors 
for us, after the last twenty-four hours on the sea. 
All I remember of that midnight landing is a big, red 
buoy, to which our steamer was made fast,, bobbing 
up and down in the light of the ship’s lantern, and a 
boat-load of luggage, into which we all tumbled with 
unreasoning faith. It was literally a leap in the 
dark. How we got ashore is as confused a matter in 
my mind as the memory of a bad dream. 

What remains clear is this: A square room in a 
grass house, the walls stopping half-way to the roof, 
like a screen; scanty furniture, a round table with a 
kerosene lamp on it, a bureau, two whole chairs and 


Barrett’s House and Capt. Cook’s Monument, Kaawaloa. 


















































































































187 


“ KAAWALOA.” 

the remains of a third in one corner. An old man, 
wrinkled, tremulous, paralytic, but speaking kindly 
English in the most tender and pathetic of voices, 
supplied the conversation which is supposed to make 
strangers feel at home. I cannot remember whether 
I asked him how far it was to Egypt or not: the 
question would have been a perfectly natural one. 
There was an uncertain complexion and foreign look 
about this old man which might have suited the Mid- 
ianitish character. A very little child, of yet more 
uncertain complexion, hovered about the man, and 
took his fond, feeble caresses and endearments with 
that look of blank ingratitude which over-petted 
children often have. An active, fine-looking young 
woman, evidently a half-white, superintended the 
house and showed us our room, and a strongly built 
young man brought up the luggage. 

This, then, was the family with whom we were to 
board a while. We were in the parlor. The room 
adjoining was to be our sleeping-room; other guests, 
if they arrived, were to occupy the rooms that re¬ 
mained. There was no ceiling to either of them. 
One common firmament of bamboo and palm-leaf 
roofing was over them all. The best room, which was 
assigned to us, had a mosquito-netting, which was 
fortunately large enough to include the couch on 
which our little boy slept. Too thankful for land to 
be critical of its accommodations, and too sleepy to 


188 


“ALOHA ! ” 


be proud, we took immediate possession of our room. 
The morning light revealed all to us. The old man 
was Mr. Moses Barrett, an Englishman by birth, 
long a resident of this place, and, by intermarriage 
with its people, deeply identified with it. The young 
man and woman were his son and daughter. The 
little child was his granddaughter, and the shy, dark 
woman who haunted the background of this family 
group was Mr. Barrett’s native wife. They had a 
home on the heights near.Kona village, where they 
commonly dwelt; but they had come down to this 
house on the beach to entertain us there. 

Our Hilo host had prepared them for our coming 
by writing them a letter. Their lower house was 
built for the entertainment of guests who might wish 
to stay on the shore. As we were of that descrip¬ 
tion, their place was what we wanted, — at least, its 
location was satisfactory ; beyond that, honesty com¬ 
pels us to say that it required good health and spirits 
on our part, as well as the best of intentions and 
most obliging manners on the part of our entertain¬ 
ers, to make our stay here tolerable. I think we 
could have borne with the fare, not being epicures, 
but the water was really the only valid argument 
in favor of intoxicating beverage that I ever met. 
Wrigglers might enjoy it, — indeed, they seemed to, 
— but man could not. It was rain-water kept too 
long, and it shared the corruptibility of the manna, 


“ KAAWALOA.” 189 

which was referred to the same source as the rain, in 
ancient story. The house itself was not uncomfort¬ 
able, being a good specimen of the better class of 
grass houses. Long piazzas on both sides furnished 
airy and shaded living-rooms by day. The incessant 
breeze on the southern end of the piazza kept mos¬ 
quitoes at bay: it would be rather strong for an 
invalid, however. We sat boldly in it, reading, talk¬ 
ing, and naturalizing among the corals and shells we 
found thereabouts. But when I ask myself, how 
would an invalid fare in this house by the beach, I 
cannot but think that he were better off at home, 
wherever his home may be. A generous diet, cheer¬ 
ful society, easy bed, and all the nameless comforts 
which are a part of every good New England home, 
are wanting here. Without them, the pure air is not 
enough. It is unfortunate that the only accommoda¬ 
tions in Kona at all suitable for delicate people are 
on the heights. The difference between the climates 
of the two places is very marked. On the beach, 
every thing is bone-dry. Rain falls but seldom, and 
only in showers. On the heights, it rains nearly ev¬ 
ery afternoon, and, of course, the nights are cool and 
damp. Nevertheless, such is the purity of the air in 
both places, and so equable is their climate, that peo¬ 
ple who cannot live elsewhere often improve in health 
here. For their sakes, and for others like them, there 
ought to be a comfortable hotel on the beach as well 


190 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


as on the heights. It would be well if both hotels 
were owned and managed by one proprietor, so that 
no unpleasant jealousies or suspicions should arise 
between them. Water could easily be carried from 
the cisterns on the hill to the hotel below, and all 
the products of the fertile upland could be daily 
served at the sea-side. We found one invalid so 
much impressed by the difference in climate between 
the sea-shore and the heights, that he had arranged 
to spend his forenoons above and his afternoons and 
nights below. His dormitory was at Kealakakua. 
He hired the second story of a little frame house 
there, and hoped to find quiet, salubrious nights. 
The ride to and fro would give him just enough daily 
exercise. It seemed as if he had made the perfec¬ 
tion of an arrangement; but it fell through in less 
than a week. Natives and mosquitoes combined 
against him. The mosquitoes kept him awake, and 
the clamor of the unknown tongue, however friendly 
its meaning, only deepened the natural sense of lone¬ 
liness. There is no desert like uncongenial company. 

This very man, however, in spite of these slight 
disagreements, had gained nine pounds of flesh in five 
weeks’ stay at Kona. He had lost at nearly the 
same rate during his fortnight at Honolulu. Another 
invalid, whose pale face met us among the dark-skins 
of Kealakakua with something of the surprise and 
pleading of a castaway, — although his residence here 


“ KAAWALOA.” 191 

was voluntary, — had passed seven months of it, and 
still lived. He was planning, however, to go back to 
the States, whence he came, and seek entrance into 
one of the California hospitals. Better the sympathy 
and comfort of an asylum, despite its sickly and piti¬ 
ful companionship, than the monotonous fare, hard 
lodging, and rude “ Greek ” of this out-of-the-way 
settlement. 

Happily, we had no sickness to humor in our choice 
of clime or dwelling-place. Caring chiefly to be let 
alone, we found in Mr. Barrett’s house on the beach 
the very best possible spot on earth for this sweet 
neglect. Our only fellow-boarder there was a de¬ 
lightfully shy man, who seldom appeared, except at 
meal-time, and whose unquestioning eating of what¬ 
ever was placed before him seemed to rebuke the 
objections which sometimes rose within us. After 
doing us this good service, he would utterly disap¬ 
pear. The utmost that could be extracted from him 
in the way of friendly communication was his ac¬ 
ceptance of the reading of a huge bundle of news¬ 
papers which had overtaken us at Hilo, and come to 
Kona with the other baggage. I have rarely met so 
agreeable a person in all my experience at public 
hotels. But “ What’s his name or where’s his hame ? ” 
let no man ask me. I ought also to make grateful 
mention of some capital people who were with us for 
the first day of our stay here, and whose intelligent 



192 


“ ALOHA!” 


conversation, filled with knowledge and experience of 
things we knew nothing of, helped immensely to 
smooth the transition from society to solitude. Will 
you stand up and have your picture taken, Mr. Sur¬ 
veyor, and you, young hunter, the surveyor’s son ? 
But no, let us wait until I can paint you — where I 
hope some day to find you — in your camp on Hua- 
lalai. 

That is your true background. But Captain St. 
George we may never see again. Here, if anywhere, 
he must make his appearance. Come ashore in your 
long-boat, Captain! Land at the little pier before 
our house ! Take care that its shaky timbers do not 
give way. Nature has been kinder to you than Art 
has been to our wharf. Come up to the house, and 
take a seat on our breezy veranda! Slowly, as befits 
his generous size, the captain comes up the coral 
walk, greets us with manly, straightforward air and 
look, takes the offered seat without a sign of any 
want of confidence in its strength or capacity, and we 
talk together as if we had been lifelong friends instead 
of acquaintances of the day. His ship is bound for 
the Arctic Ocean, in pursuit of whales. She has just 
returned from a cruise in the Middle and South Pa¬ 
cific. She lies at anchor to-day in Kealakakua Bay ; 
to-morrow she will set sail for Honolulu. And who 
are we, and what doing in this forsaken country ? 
Confidence begets confidence. His frankness inspires 
' frankness in return. 


“kaawaloa.” 193 

He plainly thinks we have made a mistake in 
coming here; fears we can never abide it till the 
return of the “ Kilauea,’ three weeks off; urges us 
to take passage with him and return to Honolulu. 
But he does not know how much we prize the very 
isolation he dreads for us. No, we have chosen our 
lot in Kona for three weeks, in spite of bodeful dis¬ 
suasions from all our friends, and we shall abide by 
it. The captain takes another tack, and this time we 
pull together. Finding us interested in shells, corals, 
fishes, and all the “ things creeping innumerable ” of 
the sea, he happily remembers that he has more or 
less of such plunder on board ship. With sailor-like 
generosity he promises to bring them ashore on his 
next landing. I verily believe he made a special trip 
for the purpose; for that very afternoon we saw 
his jolly boat and jollier face at the little pier, and 
sure enough he had brought us his treasures: a 
huge preserve-jar, filled with dredgings from the bot¬ 
tom of the Arctic Ocean; a bundle of Micronesian 
shells; a tidy bag of woven palm-leaf, filled with 
hard-won contributions from the tight-fisted North. 
Every specimen had its corresponding page of narra¬ 
tive in Captain St. George’s Book of Remembrance. 

It was one of Kona’s hottest days when we enter¬ 
tained the captain, or rather when he entertained us, 
on Moses Barrett’s piazza. But either the story of 

Arctic voyaging was physically cooling, or its interest 

13 


194 


“ ALOHA!” 


was so engaging to the mind, that we ceased to notice 
the heat. Supper and Kona were alike a surprise 
when Sarah announced the one, and the sunset light 
on the great cliff of Kaawaloa revealed the other. 
“ Well, I wouldn’t have believed it was so late,” says 
the captain; “ quick time we Ve been making, sure.” 
The king himself might have envied the easy grace 
and dignity with which our. visitor rose to depart. 
Surprise could not betray him to make haste. Only 
his own brave ship weighing anchor could equal the 
deliberate manner of his going. We knew too much 
to urge his staying to supper. His ship sails to-mor¬ 
row. Shall we meet again? Madame, who takes 
the earliest opportunity after his departure to tell me 
how much she likes Captain St. George, — as if I had 
not seen it with incipient jealousy all the time, —says 
she “ hopes so.” So do I, for I like the man as 
much as she does. 

I could have hugged him when he came ashore 
the next day, and, sitting again on our sheltered 
piazza, told us that two of his crew had deserted 
him. Worthless fellows they must have been ! One 
of them he had tended through a severe attack of 
rheumatism, and just succeeded in getting him well. 
“ I m afraid he ’ll get sick again,” said the saint. 
Actually he was more anxious about the health of 
that wretched runaway than about his own loss. 
“ He would set sail without them,” he said; “ beat 


u KAAWALOA.” 195 

out to sea for a day or two,” so as to deceive the 
deserters, who would be watching his movements, 
and then return and send in a boat to take back 
the renegades, if the officers succeeded in captur¬ 
ing them.” Perhaps, then, we shall see him yet 
again. 

The surveyor and his son leave us to-day, Saturday, 
March 25. Before they go, we must acknowledge 
their courtesy and the profit of their company. And 
I must thank them fctr their really urgent invitation 
to visit their camp, although I do not yet see how I 
can accept it. 

We had a rare experience together this morning,— 
an eclipse of the sun. It began about seven o’clock. 
Something seemed to stop, as if an old clock should 
suddenly cease ticking. Everybody and every thing 
seemed to feel that something unusual Avas happen¬ 
ing. A universal hush held all in its quiet keeping. 
We instinctively talked in lower tones than was our 
Avont. The Avaves that commonly swept vigorously 
over the rocks just lapped their Aveedy edges; the 
tall palms seemed to stooj} and listen; the very goats 
ceased their piteous cry for Avater. The light of the 
sun seemed lessened as the eclipse greAV, but Avith this 
singular effect, — objects Avere not less distinctly seen; 
rather Avere they brought out Avith neAv apparition. 
The effect Avas not of light, but of lightning pro¬ 
longed. The line of Mauna Loa’s unbent boAv Avas 

O 


196 


“ ALOHA I ” 


clearly drawn against the eastern sky. The great 
sepulchral cliff, in whose natural caves the dead of 
past generations were entombed, showed strangely 
near; the little settlement of low grass houses 
seemed to draw closer together, as if their helpless¬ 
ness would fain find comfort in community. 

The people sat still and waited. Some of them, 
seeing us grouped around the surveyor’s theodolite, 
in whose reflector we could follow the progress of 
the eclipse, with equal distinctness and comfort to 
the eye, drew near with respectful curiosity. They 
did not appear to be afraid. They showed none of 
the traditional superstition and dread of uneducated 
people. One of them, a wrinkled, unkempt, and un¬ 
canny-looking old woman, wanted to look. I could 
make nothing of her guttural comment; but the sur¬ 
veyor, a ready interpreter of Hawaiian, told me that 
she said, “ The moon is eating the sun up.” Our shy 
mentor of the dining-room, the unknown fellow- 
boarder, grew quite sociable during the eclipse, but 
I forget what he said. On second thought, I doubt 
if he said any thing; only his habitual silence so 
suited the reserve and suspense of the hour, that it 
seemed like speech. I should have remembered it 
if he had said any thing; for every thing that hap¬ 
pened in that weird, unearthly place and half-hour’s 
lapse of time is ingrained in my memory. Not alone 
the grander features of mountain, cliff, sea, and sun- 


“ KAAWALOA.” 197 

capped sky are there, but I recall the very blocks of 
lava in the old sea-wall, the blank look of the coral- 
paved yard, the gaping shells on the window-sill, the 
motionless string of coral suspended from the porch 
to be bleached; the one solitary flower that adorned 
this waste, a brave hollyhock, the flower alike of 
home and Palestine ; the floor of the piazza sprinkled 
all over with tiny crescents, made by the partially 
eclipsed sun shining through the cracks in the roofing 
(we got the same effect by pricking a pin-hole in 
paper and letting the sun shine through it); the old 
man, with that vague rim around the iris of his eyes 
which great age brings (take heart, old friend, ’tis 
only for an hour, the eclipse is passing over); and the 
busy, idle, pretty, heedless child, frolicking among 
the shining crescents, and already spangled with 
them as she stamps her little brown feet, angry be¬ 
cause she cannot pick them up and put them in her 
hair. 

“ Come, Leo, let us get our traps together and be 
starting,” says the surveyor to his son. His band of 
native assistants had been sent over the mountain 
from Hilo, with horses and mules, and they were all 
to rendezvous at Kealakakua, the village across the 
bay. We bade them “ good-by” with real regret, 
which, however, was somewhat tempered in my case 
by the hope and prospect, however dim, that I might 
yet see them in their camp. It certainly required all 


198 


“ALOHA ! ” 


our trust in our own domestic resources of enjoyment 
to part in one day with both the surveyor and Captain 
St. George. We watched Leo’s canoe till it became 
lost to sight on the opposite shore of the broad har¬ 
bor, and then subsided into the tamest of family 
intercourse for the remainder of the day, not without 
a sense of relief from the agitation of parting with 
three quarters of the sun for an hour, and three 
friends of a day perhaps for ever. 

We had a “ serio-comico-ludicro ” experience that 
night. The most assiduous of mothers, whose ears 
never sleep, who has repeatedly found herself in the 
dead of night by her child’s couch just in time to 
catch him before he touched the floor, aroused me to 
the practical solution of one of the most trying prob¬ 
lems humanity can present. “ Something was in the 
water-pitcher.” This apparently trifling circumstance, 
reported in a low tone, out of deference to the con¬ 
fiding structure of the house, produced, at first, a 
truly horrifying effect upon my half-awakened senses. 
We are always most fearful of things we only half 
know. By degrees I fully comprehended (1) that 
something was in the water-pitcher, and (2) that that 
something was alive. It was not a favorable hour 
for scientific investigation. I am aware that authors 
have been known to leave their beds at midnight and 
seize the thought that haunted them, and scientific 
explorers often spend whole nights without sleep. 


199 


“ KAAWALOA.” 

But their facilities for study, I sincerely hope, were 
superior to those at hand in Kona. I never could 
manage a kerosene-lamp. If I remove the chimney, 
it never goes back where it was before. If the top 
has a hinge on one side and a catch on the other, I 
generally mistake the one for the other. Moreover, 
an equally hazardous preliminary step needed to be 
taken. General Putnam in the wolfs den had a 
smooth retreat compared with my situation. * He had 
a rope to his leg, and somebody to pull him out. I 
had no such auxiliaries. The economical adjustment 
of one mosquito-net so as to protect at once a bed 
and a couch had made getting in a toil and getting 
out an adventure. Nevertheless, something was in 
the water-jar, and that something was alive. “ What 
is it ? ” The very question in this land of centipedes, 
scorpions, and other vermin known and unknown to 
the American skin, seemed like a threat in the dark. 

“ Don’t you want to see ? ” This was not a rhe¬ 
torical question. I recognized in it a form of address 
which I should describe, if I were making a grammar, 
as the injunctive interrogative. It is a command 
issued in the form of a question. At that moment I 
knew my calling. My fate was still uncertain. The 
“ What is it ” was certainly full of life. I could hear 
him making the circuit of his watery cell and viciously 
scratching the smooth, forbidding sides thereof. Oh, 
of course, I did it. “ Did what ? ” Got up, — got 


200 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


worsted, as usual, by the lamp, — opened the door, 
and in the solemn starlight removed that pitcher to 
the adjoining yard. It tilted when I took it by the 
handle, but happily the well was low. In a muffled 
argument on the question of release, I had obstinately 
refused to let that unknown monster free. He had 
chosen his bed, and he should lie in it. Would that 
all men might have the same privilege! 

The morning light revealed that we had caught a 
rat. Not belonging to the cruel society of dumb ani¬ 
mals, I confess I felt some compunction at having left 
him to die this slow death. But not being a cat, 
what else could I do ? I noticed that most consist¬ 
ent of women, with whose connivance the deed was 
done, and who is a member of the Society, and a di¬ 
rector also, following the thirsty hens around all the 
forenoon with a saucer of water in her hand. Once 
she started with the same saucer for a herd of goats, 
full a thousand strong, bleating for water on the 
craggy hill-side. “ Alas, alas, my poor lady ! not all 
the perfumes of Araby,” &c. 


KONA—ON THE HEIGHTS. 


201 


KONA — ON THE HEIGHTS. 

• 

TI 7E found two boarding-houses on the Heights, 
" * one too full and too promiscuously filled for 
enjoyment; the other wholly empty. The whole up¬ 
per story of the house was ours. Besides the enclosed 
rooms, there*were two — one in front and one in the 
rear of the house — which had one side wholly open 
to air and sunshine. Here we could sit in all the 
security of in-door life, and yet feel ourselves in the 
open air and among the abundant trees. 

What days of realized longings for rest and lei¬ 
sure for domestic intercourse were those at Kona! 
Madame at her sewing, fern-pressing, or blissful idling; 
I at my reading, writing, sketching, or dreaming; our 
boy delighting himself in the grounds below, cau¬ 
tiously patronizing now a cross old hen with so many 
children she did not know what to do, or a mother 
donkey with her ridiculous colt, or a whole barn-yard 
filled with half-tamed cows, superintended by a black 
herdsman and the innkeeper’s son. Away beyond the 
trees, shimmering in the sunlight, the interminable 
waste of ocean stretched towards the west, and no¬ 
where else in my experience has such a far-reaching 


202 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


ocean view been seen. So high were we above the 
sea, that great ships sailing over it seemed no larger 
than chips. Only the practised eye could discern 
them. And yet at this long distance the struggling 
of ocean currents, the footprints of the winds as they 
coursed the watery desert, the still reaches where the 
sunlight spread its oil of gladness and the darkened 
hue of the cloud-shadows on the face of the deep, 
could be distinctly traced. 

All this seemed spread at our very feet, albeit 
fathomless depths below us, because the trees around 
us shut out all view of the intervening ascent of coun¬ 
try. This was our sea view from the hanging cham¬ 
ber in the rear of the house. The outlook mauka , as 
the Hawaiians say, or towards the mountains, was as 
beautiful as this was grand. But its • beauty was a 
morning glory. To enjoy it, one must look before ten 
o’clock in the forenoon. After that, the mists trooped 
up from the sea, and shut out the mountain’s majesty 
till the dawn of the next day. But taken at the right 
moment, no view could be more lovely than Hualalai, 
the “ Child of the Sun.” This is the third mountain 
in height in Hawaii, but it is hardly inferior in beauty 
to its two rivals, Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea. It 
mounts to its eight thousand feet of altitude with 
gradual but unbroken ascent from the sea-shore. A 
rosy glow in its prevailing hue of gray hints the prob¬ 
able truth that “ e’en in its ashes, glow its wonted 
fires.” 


KONA — ON THE HEIGHTS. 


203 


The volcano lias only ceased to flow within the 
present century. But in this precocious country vege¬ 
tation has put on the strength and fulness which 
only centuries can gather in other lands. Already 
the mountain is clothed to its very shoulders with 
grass and' trees, and even on its head a crop of shrubs 
and ferns may be found. The forest girdle which 
surrounds Hawaii is nowhere more luxuriant than 
here; and when it approaches the sea, the vegetation 
settles into a thick growth of Hilo grass. Looking 
from our chamber window in the early forenoon, we 
have the whole spectacle in one transcendent view: the 
Pride of India, with its minarets of feathery foliage 
and purple bloom ; the blue-green spires of the young 
Eucalyptus lining the grass-grown road; the nearer 
woods of varied leafage, flanked by the broad band 
of royal koas ; Hualalai beyond, looking so shadowy, 
thin, and evanescent in its rose-tinted veils that it 
seemed most like the unsubstantial fabric of a dream 
which hovers between reality and unreality in the 
confusion of one awaking. For human interest in 
the picture, there is the rival inn at a safe and pic¬ 
turesque distance, where the solitary road of Kona 
crosses the hill; beyond, the tower of the old Con¬ 
gregational church, no longer in use; and up the hill¬ 
side on the right, the spire of the English Mission 
chapel. Hark! already its little bell is ringing, and 
we know that Mr. Davis, the rector, and his wife and 



204 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


their family of native scholars are gathering there for 
their daily morning devotions. There is something 
so pathetic in the loneliness and desertion of this lit¬ 
tle church in the wilderness that we cannot resist its 
pleading solicitation. Day after day we go to its ser¬ 
vices ; not because they wholly suit us, — on the con¬ 
trary, their formality and repetition are distasteful, — 
but because we cannot let any Christian church, of 
whatever lower name, be so friendless and alone. It 
really seemed as if the Master himself were lost on 
that far-away island, and crying out to his disciples 
for at least one hour of companionship and watching. 
No priest in the Roman communion ever found his 
duty in the scrupulous performance of the service, 
whether men would hear or forbear, more completely 
than did this devoted missionary of the English 
Church. Delicate in health, he had yet performed 
prodigies of skill, strength, and invention in the rear¬ 
ing and maintaining of this chapel. With his own 
hands he had cleared an acre for God, rooting out 
the wild guavas and their rude companions, sup¬ 
planting the obstinate Hilo grass with soft manienie ; 
and there, in the centre of this symbol of redemption, 
stood his tidy chapel, neat and comely as befits its 
ministry, and behind it the rector’s house and school. 
With only such help as his native friends could give 
him, he had built' and furnished the chapel. Friends 
at home had contributed to its decoration. With his 


KONA 


ON THE HEIGHTS. 


205 


own hands he had shaped the massive koa-wood font, 
and none the less sacredly did he offer the water of 
baptism from its ample urn. One of his larger pu¬ 
pils —for he kept a day-school as well as a church — 
played the reed-organ. The tunes never varied, so 
that her small skill was equal to its day. The chil¬ 
dren formed the only congregation, excepting the 
rector’s wife and ourselves, and, on Sundays, an occa¬ 
sional visitor from the village. Never did the familiar 
salutation, “ Dearly beloved brethren,” come home to 
me with such a sense of entire appropriation (I being 
the only brother in the assembly) as in this orphaned 
church in Kona. If the Anglican mission to the Ha¬ 
waiian Islands is indeed an intrusion and a super¬ 
fluity, as many believe, it pays a heavy penalty for its 
effrontery in thus invading the see of Orthodox Con¬ 
gregationalism. With Romanism and its mission on 
one side, and rival forms of Protestantism on the 
other, English Episcopalianism is not likely to prove 
successful in these islands. Nevertheless, our in¬ 
domitable rector is fighting a good fight, and in his 
labors for the native children committed to his charge 
he has his reward. He is doing his whole duty as he 
understands it; and what better success for a man is 
there than that ? I dare not limit his influence to the 
pitiful congregation which he reaches by his services 
in Kona. He is keeping alive the Christian tradi¬ 
tion of a missionary gospel, and his patient heroism 


206 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


and real self-sacrifice are animating the soul of the 
church which sends him forth. 

After morning service we stroll home to the repose 
of the Ridge House, or drop into one of the only two 
stores in the village to make some purchase, or visit 
a coffee plantation and inspect its unfamiliar growth, 
or, if we are very enterprising, take a ride on our 
host’s mule. There are horses to be had for the 
hiring, but activity seems so wholly out of place in 
Kona that we are not tempted to ride. The natives 
evidently do not share our temporary indifference to 
horseflesh. They dash along the road like the wind. 
There comes a youth whose complexion reveals his 
European blood, but in all else he is one with his 
Hawaiian companions. A cattle-driver by habit and 
choice, he carries the signs and implements of his 
business with him. You will see him, some day, at 
the landing at Kaawaloa, with Moses Barrett, urging 
the cows overboard, that they may swim to some ship 
in the harbor. He is a daring rider, a sure hand at 
the lasso, and as rough as the country he inhabits. 
Besides the cattle kept in sight, as it were, by the 
landed proprietors of Kona, there are droves of wild 
stock among the forests and springing uplands, and 
the pursuit and capture of these require rough riding 
and skilful manoeuvres with lasso and horse. It is 
no holiday sport, this cattle-hunting in Hawaii, for 
besides the active hostility of the wild bull or wilder 


KONA—ON THE HEIGHTS. 


207 


cow, there are passive foes lurking in the underbrush 
more perilous still. The cooling lava of which this 
country was made has left innumerable pits and 
chasms into which the unwary horseman may find 
himself precipitated some day. The bursting of a 
lava-bubble forty or fifty feet in diameter, and the 
ugly hole which results, its edge overgrown in time 
by dense masses of shrubbery, furnishes a terrible 
pitfall to man and beast. Only a little while before 
we visited Kona, the son of the ex-missionary residing 
there, Mr. Paris, barely escaped with his life from 
one of these traps. He was a bold rider and skilful 
hunter, familiar, too, with the country; but this did 
not save him from a terrible accident. His native 
assistants missed him from their company. He did 
not return to the appointed rendezvous, and a long and 
anxious search ensued for his discovery. All night 
and all day they scoured the woods and uplands 
without finding trace of man or horse. But towards 
evening of the second day, one of the natives, who 
knew of the location of an overgrown lava-cave, led 
the way to it, and there young Paris was found, 
more dead than alive. His horse had leaped with 
him into the very centre of the pit, thirty or forty feet 
deep. When he came to his senses after the shock, 
he found his horse had broken his neck, and he had 
shattered his arm. Escape by any exertion of his 
own was impossible. The walls around him were 


208 


“ALOHA ! ” 


smooth and perpendicular. Neither had he strength 
to climb, if any friendly stepping-stones had been 
offered to him. His watch stopped at eleven o’clock 
in the forenoon, the hour of his accident; and 
when he was recovered, it was evening of the second 
day. He had heard his rescuers hunting for him the 
afternoon preceding, but could not make them hear 
his voice. In what hopeless misery the intervening 
hours were passed, only the lost sufferer could know. 

But these are not the memories that belong to un¬ 
eventful Kona. These stirring accidents by flood and 
field should seek their celebration where they find 
the scene of their occurrence, either on the ocean 
below our happy interval of rest, or on the mountain 
above it. Dr. Chalmers once recommended a young 
preacher to “ cultivate the pause.” Kona had all the 
impressiveness of a pause in the oration of life. In 
it, the concentred experience, admonition, and cheer 
of all preceding existence seemed to be distilled in 
one full cup of blissful elixir. In it, too, the desire 
and purpose of coming years was crystallizing. There 
are times in life when our “ strength is to sit still.” 
Kona is the natural resting-place of “ quietness 
and confidence,” — a Sabbath in space. “We take 
no note of time, save by its loss to give it then a 
name.” . It is the one place in the world where we 
were delivered from the consciousness of our beset¬ 
ting sin, — procrastination. When all days were 


KONA — ON THE HEIGHTS. 


209 


alike, there was no reason for doing a thing to-day 
rather than to-morrow. 

Our last hold on the outside world — the steamer 
“ Kilauea ” —would not be due for three weeks. So 
long, therefore, we were shut up to the one land where 
indolence is virtue. The bread-fruit tree should give 
us bread for the plucking and baking. Its sweet 
substance, more like the contents of a'great boiled 
chestnut than any thing else, only needed salt and 
butter to make it take the place of the sweetest rusks 
of civilization. The perennial bunch of bananas al¬ 
ways hanging in our airy parlor should furnish forth 
the forenoon lunch. Taro in all its captivating forms, 
excepting poi, should fill out the measure of our gus¬ 
tatory content. Thus fed with fruits which hardly 
need the hand of cultivation to bring them to per¬ 
fection, and exhilarated by the far-famed Kona coffee, 
so dried that all the sweetness of its pulpy investi¬ 
ture is fixed in the berry, we need not fear hunger or 
thirst. The blessed silence of a world forgot is all 
about us. Seen from this height, the very sea seems 
still, and stretches far as eye can see, a million leagues 
of calm. 

The Papaya just opposite my window has spread 
its ample parasol, and in its shade the yellowing fruit 
clusters thickly about the corrugated trunk. A spider 
has spun his web from one tier to another of the out¬ 
spread leaves, and seems sleeping suspended in the 

14 


210 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


motionless air. The Datura brugmansia hangs its 
inverted cup and spills its fragrance all abroad. 
Your very heart-beats are almost audible, when sud¬ 
denly the spell is broken by a sound as of a dry pump 
being “ fetched ” by water and suction. And yet 
there is something unmistakably animal in the sound. 
It turns out to be the young donkey. The sound is 
so irresistibly comical, that you laugh in spite of your¬ 
self. Thus when the pressure of this supernatural 
beauty and stillness is getting to be too much for you, 
Nature comes to your relief with one of her domestic 
absurdities. 

Sometimes we were as much diverted by our own 
eccentricities as by our humble relative’s, the donkey’s. 
Fully possessed, as we were by this time, with the 
fern-fever, our collection was becoming the weightiest 
part of our luggage. Each walk up the road or into 
the neighboring woods discovered some new fern, or 
some fine specimen of former friends. The tempta¬ 
tion to gather and press them was too strong for 
resistance. Besides, was not Kona the peculiar home 
of some choice varieties greatly desired to complete 
our collection ? The Polypodium spectrum , or, as it 
is familiarly called, the sweet-potato fern, grew in 
these woods. Mr. Davis knew the precise trees in 
the forest belt whose trunks were wreathed by it. 
He kindly took us there one day, and a rare afternoon 
we had in that tangle of dead and living trees and 


KONA 


ON THE HEIGHTS. 


211 


vines. What plumes of Trichomenes radicans ; what 
quills of Asplenium of various species ; what splen¬ 
didly seeded Aspidium falcatum ! We came home 
with presses running over with richness. And then 
comes the wearier labor of carefully putting the speci¬ 
mens into safe and evenly acting presses. Furniture, 
baggage, clothing, every available article of weight 
and fitness, was put upon the rising mass,; until one 
day, on my return from a brief walk, I found my lady 
herself, in the utterness of her devotion, seated upon 
an inverted table, which made the summit of the fern- 
press, and calmly reading Hooker’s “ Synopsis Fili- 
cum,” with the monstrous herbarium beneath her, and 
the legs of the table shutting her in. 

A week of this harmless life so lulled all fears of 
man or woman, or bird or beast, or sea or volcano, to 
rest, that I began to think it possible to accept the 
surveyor’s invitation to visit him at his camp on 
Hualalai. Every morning’s view of the mountain re¬ 
newed the longing to come into nearer acquaintance 
with it. Our host had an obedient white mule, war¬ 
ranted to take me to the upper sheep-ranche of Dr. 

T-, from which I could be guided to the camp on 

the dead volcano. A visit to the Doctor’s house in 
Kona assured me that he was still at the upper ranche, 
and once there, with his sending, I should be sure of 
reaching the surveyor’s party quickly and safely. It 
seemed too good an opportunity for mountaineering 



212 


“ ALOHA!” 

among the volcanoes to be lost. Three or four days 
would be long enough to get a taste of the life. There 
seemed no good reason for my not going, and I went; 
and the story thereof, will it not be told in the next 
chapter ? 


HUALALAL 


213 


HU AL ALAI. 

T T was a perfect morning in April when I started 
A on my host’s white mule for the camp on Hua- 
lalai. My first stage of nine miles through pasture 

and dense forest would bring me to Dr. S-’s sheep- 

ranche. Beyond that an unknown excursion over a 
wilderness of lava lay before me. But with a shepherd 
guide familiar with such travel, no danger need be 
apprehended. My mule and I had barely reached the 
centre of the great pasture-land through which our 
journey lay at first, when a solitary horseman appeared 
riding down the hill. He proved to be the Doctor 
himself, on whose safe-conduct I was relying for the 
discovery of the camp. With the ready politeness of 
li'is race, — the Doctor was from France, — he tore a 
leaf from his note-book and gave me this persuasive 

order upon his overseer at the ranche : “ Mr. C-is 

going to meet Mr, H-on Hualalai. Send for Ru¬ 

dolph at once. In the mean time, get an animal in 
for him, and send Rudolph with him to our house at 

Hualalai. From there Dick will guide Mr. C-to 

Mr. H-’s camp.” 

With this Napoleonic despatch I went forward, 







214 


“ ALOHA!” 


fully armed for victory. To a man not afraid to be 
alone, there was nothing to disturb the enjoyment of 
the ride. There was none of the soul-searching still¬ 
ness of Kona village to overawe one. The woods 
were full of song. No savage foe of any kind lurked 
in the jungle of grass and fern. There was some risk 
of missing the way in the open uplands, where num¬ 
berless cattle-paths diverged in every direction. But 
we struck the woods on the right trail, and after that 
there were no seductive by-ways. The path was un¬ 
deniably muddy, and there were places where the 
mule exhibited more doubt than confidence in the 
safety of proceeding. But kindness and example — 
I dismounting and leading the way — conquered his 
prudence and disarmed his obstinacy, and we went 
forward. 

We were fully six hours, however, in making the nine 
miles to the sheep-ranche, and 1 began to have fears 
that I had mistaken the road, when the sight of cattle 
and a clearing, soon followed by the appearance of the 
farm-buildings, reassured me. My own absorbing and 
delaying interest in the vast tropical forest through 
which I had been passing occasioned the lateness of 
our arrival fully as much as the difficulty of the toil¬ 
some ascent and the proverbial slowness of the mule. 
To one not familiar, or only recently acquainted, with 
such woods, the charm of novel vegetation and birds 
singing in a foreign tongue is irresistible. Add the 


HU AL ALAI. 


215 


fern-furore to his other susceptibilities, and it will be 
no wonder if he takes the whole day for his ride from 
the village to the ranche. The only familiar bird-note 
was the whistle of the quail. The iiwi and o-o of 
Hawaii were as strange as their names, and their notes 
resembled these native names by which they were 
called. From the wings of the former are obtained 
the peculiar hair-like yellow feathers from which the 
royal capes were made. And as only two of these 
little feathers are found on each wing, some idea of 
the rarity and costliness of the garment may be imag¬ 
ined. The birds are held sacred to royalty, and for¬ 
merly they could not be caught or killed for anybody 
but the foremost chief. A peculiar privilege this, when 
each bird could only furnish four of the coveted plumes, 
and a single royal cape would consume millions of them! 
— which sets me to wondering whether popular bru¬ 
tality would not be a safer defence than royal luxury. 
What a mine of wealth these magnificent koa trees 
would be to the people who should transport their 
timber to the shore and ship it to foreign countries! 
The koa is the Hawaiian mahogany. It takes a polish 
like gold or diamonds. In the hands of foreign work¬ 
men, it might be made as ornamental as precious 
marbles. And here is a great belt of it around 
Hawaii, broad and full enough to supply every city 
in America. These commercial estimates are all after¬ 
thoughts. While under the fascination of the lavish 


216 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


beauty of the woods, no sense is appealed to but the 
sesthetic. The climbing ie , garlanding the great 
trees like maile wreaths upon the Hawaiian beauties, 
carry the effect of interlacing and tangle, which usually 
is limited to undergrowth, to the very summits of the 
tall trees. Clusters of the bird’s-nest fern rest like 
Indian crowns upon the strong limbs of the koas. 
Ohias and remnants of the sandal-wood vary the forest 
foliage with their characteristic hues. But, after all, 
the ferns, in all their variety and grace, are the sen¬ 
sation of the place. From dead trees, in odd ribbons 
and tongues, the Ophioglossum hangs in clusters. 
The Asplenium, with tiny infant on its tip, ready 
when borne to the earth to begin mi independent life 
and go leaping onward to generation after generation, 
starts up at the foot of the same old trees. In our 
very pathway grow magnificent specimens of the 
Aspidium, with its back one great array of rounded 
shields. The Pteris cretica grew in clusters as we 
entered the wood. At every step some new specimen 
greeted us. 

But these are tame preparations for the rough life 
which is before us. Once at the ranche, we enter a 
new region of interest and adventure. Henceforth 
till our return we shall have small time for botanizing, 
and can only notice, as we pass over the lava waste, 
the little Pellea ternifolia , or in deep crannies in the 
rock some delicate Asplenium. Rudolph is not at 


HUALALAI. 


217 


the ranche when we arrive. A native boy takes us 
in charge, and together we drive a mile further up 
the mountain to the sheep-shearing station. There, 
at length, we find Rudolph, a herdsman of Teutonic 
birth, and with the honest friendly face and manner 
of his race. By this time it is towards evening, and 
we have none too much time to reach the upper sta¬ 
tion, seven miles away, before night. Off we go, 
Rudolph on his fresh horse and I on my indefatigable 
mule, over the most forsaken region this side of 
Sahara. For two or three miles a fine pumice or 
granulated lava covered the ground, and over this, 
with no indications that I could discern of right or 
wrong in the way of our going, we pushed across the 
high table-land. Soon the mists began to close us in, 
and the darkness coming on, we were condemned to 
pick our way over a region far more broken and path¬ 
less than the desert behind us. Up and down and 
round and about, now slipping, now sliding, now leap¬ 
ing, now cautiously stepping, with the debris of in¬ 
numerable earthquakes and volcanic eruptions only 
made more ruinous by time under our feet, and the 
double darkness of mist and night in our faces, we 
rode forward in search of the appointed resting-place. 
It was impossible to doubt or fear with such a cheer¬ 
ful, confident companion as my trusty guide. All the 
way we talked and laughed as cheerfully as if we were 
snugly ensconced by some safe fireside. Nevertheless, 


218 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


I was glad when I heard Rudolph send through the 
darkness a shrill whistle, as if signalling some ex¬ 
pected companion. We were nearing the end of that 
day’s march, I hoped; but no answer came to the 
whistled summons. Again and again repeated, it 
awoke no response but its own echo. 

Rudolph showed no surprise, but kept moving in 
no decided direction that I could discover, but by 
serpentine windings and labyrinthine paths, until at 
length I found myself meekly following him through 
a large sheep-yard, as W'e discovered the dimly seen 
enclosure to be on the following day. Drawing rein 
before a poor little hut, Rudolph leaped from his 
horse and began pounding at the door. This time 
he got a response, but not the one he expected. A 
dog’s voice was his only welcome, and the nature of 
the welcome was somewhat dubious. Evidently he 
had been left to guard the premises while his master 
was away. Whatever the canine keeper’s disposition, 
he could not open the door, and Rudolph was driven 
to invent some less burglarious process than breaking 
it down in order to effect an entrance. He has it! 
Suddenly he goes to the rear of the house, creeps 
under it and lifts a trap-door which opens into the 
main room of the little dwelling. Then he comes 
and lets me in, first quieting the dog, which proves 
much smaller than its bark. Then follows a search 
for matches, candles, fuel, water, food, and the where- 


HUAJLALAI. 


219 


withal to satisfy the dog within us, barking for his 
supper. Happily we find enough for our needs, and 
something in the way of luxury in the shape of three 
or four eggs. The fragments of tallow candles by 
whose light our cooking and eating were illumined 
held out to burn just long enough for us to make up 
our beds on the floor, and throw ourselves in the 
bliss of ignorance into their greasy embrace. The 
wraps and blankets of a solitary herdsman on Hualalai 
could not be expected to be other than they were; 
but when the indifference of sleep was added to the 
ignorance of the darkness, our couch would have 
been no easier if it had been of eider-down instead 
of slightly alleviated hard-wood. Only once in the 
night was I awakened to my condition by something 
small and alive running over me. It w r as the dog, 
making friends with the hand which had rifled his 
master’s house. Daylight, which came in due time, 
revealed nothing in our refuge which should tempt 
us to delay there. In the absence of its proprietor, 
its only attraction w r as gone. I was doubly sorry to 
miss him, because I had heard of his intelligence and 
skill; and with his thorough knowledge of the country, 
and probable acquaintance with the very situation of 
the surveyor’s encampment, I could have gone directly 
thither. But Rudolph was fully equal to the emergency. 
Locking up the little hut and its solitary guardian as 
he had found them, and making his egress through 


220 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


the trap-door, he saddled the steeds forthwith, and 
led the way in cheerful expectancy up the forbidding 
steep of the great mountain. I thought I had seen 
the worst Hawaii could show in the way of travelling 
in my previous rides in Hilo and Puna, but those 
pleasant by-ways of alternate mud, ashes, and glass 
were easy-going compared with the upper reaches of 
Hualalai. A sea of lava hummocks, with occasional 
clearings of unmitigated cinders as crisp and clinging 
as if they had just been raked out of a great furnace. 
How our animals navigated this solid deep w T ith 
neither wings nor sails to help them I cannot tell. 
Perhaps, like Lucy Maria crossing the puddle, they 
took a long breath, held up all they could, and scudded 
over on the tips of their toes or hoofs. I only know 
that somehow w r e were carried through without slip 
or serious injury to man or beast. The forenoon was 
getting well advanced, and already the dense mist 
was beginning to cover the mountain-sides, when 
Rudolph sighted some horses a mile or two away 
towards the sea. They must belong to the surveying 
party; but what takes them down there? The camp, 
we had been told, was near the very summit. In the 
absence of the telephone, we had no choice but to 
make our way in this unpromising direction, and look 
for guidance to these stray fragments of the party. 
We reached them after another hour of excruciating 
riding, — excruciating to the animals, but endurable 


HUALALAI. 


221 


by us, — and found two natives with a string of mules 
and horses seeking water. They had brought their 
animals all this long distance down the mountain to 
give them drink in one of the natural cave-cisterns 
known to them in this vicinity. The camp, they 
reported, was far up the mountain, in a sheltered 
depression just below the summit. There was no 
time to lose if we wished to reach it before the cloud- 
mist should wholly enclose it. So back we turned, 
and plodded resolutely upwards. To my unwonted 
eye, a needle in a load of hay would have seemed 
much more easily found than a hidden camp on this 
interminable, mist-enveloped volcano. But the cheer¬ 
ful Rudolph led the way undaunted, and without 
the least clew that I could discover he brought me 
by high noon into the desired camp. There in the 
very attic of the world, or, if that is too confined a 
figure for the airy, open perch on Hualalai, there on the 
very ridge-pole of creation, our surveyor and his party 
had alighted. A scrub growth of ohias and sandal¬ 
wood made a miniature forest in this sky-valley, and 
under its lee the tents were pitched, the fires built, the 
horses tied, the luggage stored, and at the time of 
our arrival nobody posted. The whole party was 
abroad: some hunting, some foraging, some seeking 
water for the horses, as we had already seen. The 
faithful Rudolph, hardly stopping long enough to 
break a cracker for his noontide lunch, soon set out 


222 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


upon his homeward jaunt, and I was left in sole pos¬ 
session of the camp and its contents. More weary 
than hungry, I was best served by the shade and 
repose of the cool couch of mats which I found 
spread within the surveyor’s tent. There, with such 
breezes as blow only in Hawaii, and there only on 
Hualalai, fanning me without and filling my lungs 
within, I awaited, in horizontal contentment, the 
return of the hunter. What game, do you say, could 
there be in these desperate places ? Wild pigs, for 
one thing! You might have seen their tusks, as 
curving and almost as long as rams’ horns, in Dick’s 
hut, where we spent the last night. No jokers these 
mountain boars! Fed on roots,— though how they get 
at them without having their nozzles sharpened is a 
mystery, — and now and then stealing a lamb or sheep 
from the immense flocks which pasture here, they 
attain a wonderful sweetness of meat, if not of tem¬ 
per. A taste of these juicy porkers, roasted in the 
open air before a great wood-fire, would go far to 
overcome the common prejudice against swine’s flesh. 
These mountain pigs are lineal descendants of the 
very explorers which commerce and civilization set 
rooting in these islands. Would that all their gifts 
had been as useful! Aristotle says that animals which 
rove have a flavor which the stalled beast cannot 
equal. The wild sheep, cattle, and goats which 
inhabit this great forest and wilderness seem to have 


HUALALAI. 


223 


gained rather than lost by their return to their nat¬ 
ural savagery. But it would not be safe to carry the 
parallel to the humanity which Hawaii presents. 
There is no corresponding improvement in these 
apostates to civilization and progress, the natives of 
Europe or America, who have fallen into the wild and 
coarse life of an inferior people. Of course I am not 
speaking of respectable and humane people who 
have made Hawaii their home, and by honorable 
intermarriage and faithful love are rearing families in 
Christian nurture and culture. For these men we 
have only respect and admiration. The intimacy 
which we were privileged to enjoy with one such 
family was the source of joy and instruction at the 
time, and is still one of my most grateful memories 
of life in Hawaii. 

I am speaking only of those voluntary castaways 
who have made shipwreck of their manhood by a 
retreat to barbarism, — men who have given them¬ 
selves over to all uncleanness, and whose reward is 
with them in a degradation and vileness only profit¬ 
able for warning. Certainly, then, whatever brutes 
may gain by a relapse into their natural wildness, 
men only lose on that track. 

By this time I began to be hungry ; and, the hunt¬ 
ers not returning, I do not scruple to blunt the edge 
of my appetite with such crumbs of dinner as I can 
find in the promiscuous heap of provender and lug- 


224 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


gage which lines the sides of the tent. Was ever 
solitude so instinct with the sense of human socia¬ 
bility as this ? Commonly such a post as I had at¬ 
tained — eight thousand feet above the sea, in a 
cleft of the rock, wind-swept, now veiled in mist, now 
clear in sunshine — fills a man with the sense of 
loneliness, or rather of other company than his fel¬ 
lows. But sitting here in this tent door, I was so 
surrounded with the tokens of human fellowship in 
its common domestic phases, — kettles and frying- 
pans, dippers and dishes, tin cans and boxes, buckets 
and blankets, saddles and bridles, and all the delight¬ 
ful confusion of camp existence,—that I could not feel 
myself alone. Nor was I alone very long. Out of the 
mist, like a human sunbeam, the yellow head of young 
Leo, the surveyor’s son, suddenly appears. Then fol¬ 
lows the surveyor himself and some of his native 
attendants; and no lord in his own castle, with the 
assurance of an unlimited larder and endless means 
of entertainment, could have welcomed me more cor¬ 
dially or generously than this host whose bed and 
board were covered by a single tent. The hospitality 
of people in these islands is beyond praise, and, un¬ 
happily, beyond requital. I should like to catch that 
surveyor and his stalwart son on our New England 
hills some day, and turn the tables on them for their 
ungrudging entertainment of me on Hualalai. There 
was no reason to fear the lack of animal food in this 


HUALALAI. 


225 


endless fold of sheep and goats and cattle; but the * 
stock of bread was not so easily replenished. For¬ 
tunately the large retinue of servants which the sur¬ 
veyor’s work required, and the corresponding train of 
mules and horses, furnished carriage for a generous 
camp outfit, and, in case of need, it was not impos¬ 
sible to send to the village itself for further supplies. 

In this assurance, we gave our appetite the freedom 
of the camp, and dined luxuriously. That afternoon 
I had my first and last experience in hunting the wild 
goats. They rove these heights in herds ; now few, 
now many; but there are so many of them in all, 
that the hunter is sure to come in sight of them 
every hour of the day. We had scarcely gone a half- 
mile from our camp before we saw our quarry at 
a long gunshot on the edge of the opposite hill. 

“ Bang ! ” goes the surveyor’s rifle, and “ Bang ! 
bang ! ” goes young Leo’s double-barrel; and away 
go the wild goats, scattering and leaping from one 
lava-block to another, and making for the lower slope 
with the elasticity of grasshoppers and the speed of 
deer. “ Now, Leo, keep them in sight; we must 
have hit one of them ! ” And down the broken 
mountain-side, like a fresh flow of lava, young Leo 
goes racing. I follow in all the zest of that sur¬ 
viving brute in man which likes to be in at the death. 
Sure enough, one of the goats is wounded. Here 

are marks of blood on the rock. “ On, Leo, he went 

15 


226 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


this way ! ” and down we plunge from rock to rock, 
over an incline as steep as the roof of a third-pitch 
house, and only safe from precipitation by the innu¬ 
merable pitfalls and endless extent of the roof. 

“ Ah ! the fellow is badly hit. See, here is more 
blood, and there a bit of fat! ” On we go, and now, 
across a gully, we catch a glimpse of our victim. 
There he stands, taking one long breath, or rather a 
long succession of short breaths, before he renews his 
plunge for life. “ And what is that hanging from 
his side ? ” Leo says he has been struck in the 
bowels. 

• 

“ Ah! that explains the blood-drops and the bits 
of flesh. Run for him, he must fall at length! ” And 
run we do, across the gully, up the hillock, over it, 
down the dry watercourse which the panting, bleed¬ 
ing, staggering creature has chosen for his path. 
“ There he is again ! He stops longer now. See ! 
he is waiting under that thicket of scrub ohias.” I 
see; Leo sees. “ Stop ! let me give him another 
shot,” says the young Nimrod; and he loads and 
shoots. “ No use. There he goes;” and then we go 
after him, hot, panting, tired, but unconscious of it 
all in the excitement of the chase. We are evidently 
gaining on him. We see him now at shorter inter¬ 
vals. The gory signals grow more frequent. He 
cannot hold out much longer. “ See ! there he tum¬ 
bles over that big rock, only a rod before us.” Like 


HU AL ALAI. 


227 


the young lion he is, Leo is after him. I see his 
tawny mane disappear when the goat went over. 
The sound of a brief struggle; then a sad bleat, end¬ 
ing in a gurgle, and all is over. I look over the rock, 
and there is Leo kneeling by the goat, and wiping his 
knife. He has cut his throat. The goat is dead, 
then. “ Thank God ! ” 

“ Thank Leo ! you mean,” do I hear my reader 
saying ? No. Thank God! Thank him for death, 
and its ending of the poor brute’s fear and tor¬ 
ture. I protest that in all this bloody business, 
from the moment I saw the red spot on the black 
lava-rock to the merciful gash in the throat, which 
set him free, I have had but one motive. Laugh at 
me, if you will, for a soft-hearted fool; I have been 
running that poor brute to his death, out of simple 
pity and love. The sight of him, with that dangling 
vital by his side, turned all my fury into mercy. He 
should not escape to linger in pain and make his 
piteous appeal to Heaven against man’s inhumanity. 
We would heal his wound with death, poor brute,— 
death, speedy and sure. I protest, in spite of every 
appearance to the contrary, that I hunted that goat 
to his death in pureness of love and pity. I more 
than suspect that hunting, after all, is gentlemanly 
butchery, or a fashionable way of committing murder 
without social injury. At all events, I am clear in 
this opinion, that only dead-shots have an undoubted 


228 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


4 


moral right to shoot at living things. If you say, 
the perfect marksman is only made by his early blun¬ 
ders, then I say, let him blunder over some inanimate 
mark, and get his skill in hitting birds by first hitting 
things. I am bound to say of Leo that he proved 
himself a legitimate hunter afterwards, by the cer¬ 
tainty of his aim and the success of his foraging 
among the California quail which frequent these up¬ 
lands. And in the case of the goat, although the 
risk of the long shot was great and the effect cruel, 
he showed the true hunter’s conscience, and brought 
his prey to death. 

The next day we broke camp, — no slight labor 
with all these traps. But the retinue was equal to 
the equipage, and these strong natives and enduring 
mules made easy work of it. Over the very top of 
Hualalai we took our course, the surveyor, Leo, and 
myself, with one or two attendants, leaving the 
rest to go by a lower course to the place of our en¬ 
campment on the other side the mountain. The 
work of surveying could not begin until the train 
reached a fixed point on the further side ; and, as it 
must take the men all the forenoon to pack and move 
to this spot, we had that time free for leisurely travel 
and curious exploration. It takes a volcano as long 
to die as it does a man to live. It is a little more 
than threescore years and ten since Hualalai gave its 
last lively spasm, and at last it is regarded as quite 


HUALALAI. 


229 


extinct. It is one immense mass of collapsed cones, 
as like and as unlike each other as two peas. 

The truncated cone, the ragged rim, the inner preci¬ 
pice, on whose side nothing less tenacious than the 
wild ohia and the mountain goat could stand, the 
mound of pumice and ashes in the centre, — this all 
multiplied one or two hundred times, makes upper 
Hualalai. We plodded over it, without accident or 
incident even, beyond the occasional sight of wild 
goats and the lighting of fires in the bushes, to 
show our distant followers the route we had taken. 
By eleven o’clock they caught up with us, and then 
began the triangulating and surveying on a scale I had 
never seen before. These hundred cones, it seems, 
had been known and distinguished in times past, by 
the natives, by special names, and the old surveys 
were full of these special appellations. Hardly any¬ 
body of the present generation knew one from another, 
and nothing but the sole possession of nearly all that 
region by one proprietress — the Princess Ruth — pre¬ 
vented this obscurity as to boundaries from becom¬ 
ing a source of jealousy and contention. 

* 

Indeed, it was fast coming to that, as the lands were 
being leased or sold to various tenants or owners; and 
this survey, on which we were at work, was designed 
to settle some vexed questions of boundary and privi¬ 
lege. One alone of all the native company seemed 
familiar with the landmarks and their ancient titles. 


230 


“ ALOHA!” 


Old Jacko, a patriarchal kanaka of perennial vigor 
and memory, unvexed by varied or much learning, was 
the prose Virgil of our passage through this superficial 
Inferno. With absolute precision he distinguished 
Upupu from Pupuu, and Puupu from Uupu, and all 
the other possible combinations of u and p. He knew 
them all by name, and with his guidance the signals 
were set up on one hill and another, and their bearing 
and distances taken or calculated, and all plotted with 
admirable exactness. The surveyor expected, before 
his work was finished, to send a party up Mauna Loa, 
to set up his signal there. When a former survey 
was taken, the summit crater was in action, and the 
surveyor sighted its column of smoke. Old Mokua- 
weow r eo is not engaged in this enterprise, however, 
and Jacko, with his servitors, must do as they can 
without Mauna Loa’s help. What audacity it seemed 
to make that superb mountain a partner in this little 
business of laying out the boundaries of mine and 
thine ! As I stood on the side of Hualalai that clear 
April day, and saw the height and depth and length 
and breadth of the great mountain, and knew that, 
while it mused there so calmly in the broad noon, the 
fire was burning in its heart, I could almost hear the 

4 » 

answer of a greater than Mauna Loa, when the appeal 
of competing selfishness was made to him: “ Who 
made me to be a judge or a divider over you ? ” 

Well, we lunched in the wilderness, and, if the 


HU AL ALAI. 


231 


fires had not cooked our food, the sun would have 
done as well. Then for a long and slow defile still 
further down the mountains. I shall never blush or 
retaliate if I am ever called a donkey. After that 
trip, in which the highest human virtues — courage, 
patience, self-sacrifice, long-suffering, the bearing of 
others’ burdens, and meekness altogether trans-Mosaic 
— were so conspicuously shown by the little beasts 
that conveyed us through that limbo of wrought-iron 
and clinkers, I should feel honored by comparison 
with them. 

“ Is there no water in this wilderness to cool their 
innocent tongues ? ” I am mentally asking. “ Oh for 
some miracle by which my cupful could be made to 
water them all! I would gladly give it to them.” 

“Yes, there is water,” — “pan tvai ,”—Jacko says, 
“ a few miles away.” 

“ Let us go there.” 

“ Yes, we are going.” The surveyor gives the 
order. And how I longed, every step of that wrench¬ 
ing, racking, twisting, crucifying way, to have my old 
mule and his fellows know that we were going to get 
them water ! We found it at last, — a great bubble 
cavern, in whose cool depths the waters found a nat¬ 
ural cistern. The barrels and portable tanks were 
filled with it. The horses, mules, donkeys, and men 
drank all they would, and then, before night came on, 
we all made the best of our way, or, better, the worst 


232 


u 


ALOHA ! ” 


of our way, to a scrub grove three or four miles away, 
and under its sandal-wood trees we pitched our tents 
and rested through the night. 

“ Jacko,” said the surveyor, speaking in the strangled 
Italian which is called the Hawaiian tongue, “ this 
h'aole ” (meaning me) “ has never seen a lava-burst; 
can’t you tell something about the big flow of ’59 ? ” 

We were sitting at our tent door in the full moon¬ 
light, with Mauna Kea before us and Mauna Loa on 
our right, their indistinctness to the eye borrowing 
even larger proportions and grander beauty from the 
imagination ; the camp-fire had fallen into the gray 
old age which precedes dissolution; Jacko, too, was 
old and gray. But the fire had not yet gone out in 
that old body. Life sparkled in his still active eyes. 
In liquid-guttural (if you do not believe in such a 
contradiction in sound, go and hear Hawaiian spoken) 
he told how the air stood still, the mountain thun¬ 
dered inwardly, the pillar of flame and smoke stood 
high above Mokuaweoweo; the river of fire poured 
from Mauna Loa’s summit, a mile and more in width 
and forty miles in length, before it reached the sea. 
The black serpent we had passed in our ride that 
day was one of its branches. The main stream went 
further north. You may see it from the ocean, when 
you are coasting Hawaii, a stone river, black and 
glistening, from the sea to the very rim of the summit 
crater. All this my host interpreted to me. Jacko 


H UAL ALAI. 


233 


was a living chronicle of the volcanic eruptions. 
Every one of them had seared a path in his memory. 
He was a boy when Hualalai had its last scrape. 
And all the great lava flows of Manna Loa, from ’52 
down to the last in ’68, were as familiar to him as his 
own housekeeping. 

“ What about ’68, Jacko ? ” 

“ ’68, by Pele, that was a stunner ! ” (Jacko was 

in Kau that spring.) “ Shaky place. Earthquake 

every five minutes. Houses all broken down. Stone 
%/ 

walls laid flat. Horses and cattle just mad with fear. 
Everybody sea-sick on land. Had to sit down to 
hold up. So ! All at once, mountain get throwed 
into sea. Jacko see him. Side of mountain shoot 
straight out. Then big mud-river flow over every 
thing, bury houses, bury men, bury children, bury 
cattle, bury every thing in its way. Just one poor 

woman saved, because too weak to run away. Mud 

* 

skipped her house. She all safe. Jacko had tried to 
get to Kona to see if his friends there were safe. No 
go. Big lava river, hissing hot there in Waiohinu. 
No getting round or over it. Captain Brown, he just 
have time to run with his folks, before the lava reached 
his place. See big fire in woods ; think strange; no 
stop to see why; ten minutes later, no get away. 
Few men and beetles saved. Got caught on islands, 
where lava river got broke up. Took ’em off when 
lava cooled. Pele, how red the sea was all the way 


234 


“ ALOHA!” 


to Punaluu, and how it steamed and roared when the 
lava poured into it there beyond Kaliae! But the big 
wave was the worst. All the way from Kahuku 
to Kapoho one big sea. Villages swept away like 
sea-weed.” 

How long Old Jacko would have spun his lava 
yarns, if weariness and sleep had not put in their 
claims upon us, I know not. He ceased. Vs hat is 
that heaving, rumbling, half-moaning, half-exulting 
sound which, distantly or near (who can calculate 
distances by sound in this thin, still, upper atmos¬ 
phere ?), invades my ear? Is it possible that Kil- 
auea’s roaring can be heard thus far, in spite of 
Mauna Loa’s intervening bulk, or do I hear the waves 
breaking on the rocks of Kealakakua? Romantic 
reader, would that I could indulge your fancy; but 
the truth must be told, — our kanakas were asleep, 
as we should be, and this was the sound of their 

snoring. 


IAO. 


235 


IAO. 


FTER the Hawaiian Channel, the desert itself 



-F*- were a paradise. But Maui is no desert. For¬ 
bid it, waving cane-fields of Wailuku, mango groves of 
Lahaina, broad uplands of Makawao, where the coffee 
and sugar agree as sweetly in the beginning as in the 
end of their destined course, and cows may be had 
for the catching. There was no visible promise of 
such abundance, however, in the sterile beach of 
Maalea Bay. A sea-convolvulus in the sand, with 
no morning glory about it, except in its name, was all 
the vegetation that greeted our longing eyes as we 
peered through the early twilight in search of some 
green thing. A toy wharf and a miniature ware¬ 
house were the only signs of a settlement. A group 
of people on the pier showed that the steamer’s arri¬ 
val had been expected. Was anybody in the group 
expecting us ? We were uncertain of this, as we had 
not fully decided to stop at Maui, and had sent no 
word of our coming. It seemed hazardous to ven¬ 
ture ashore, on the double uncertainty, first, as to our 
reception, and second, as to our getting away in time 
to catch the next steamer for America. 


236 “ ALOHA ! ” 

But oue may venture where three could not go. 
A hurried conference in the dim cabin settled the 
question in favor of my landing, while the rest of the 
family sailed on. Madame approved. Our son si¬ 
lently consented in his sleep. They would reach 
Honolulu that evening. Meantime our friends on 
board would give them every needed attention until 
they were safely at home. There was no time to lose 
in uncertain consultation. Already the long-boat was 
chafing on the swelling waters by the “ Kilauea’s ” side, 
the baggage for Maui, human and otherwise, was going 
over the side, accompanied by excited commands, au¬ 
thoritative directions, jocular farewells, neighborly 
messages, incessant laughter, and intermittent scold¬ 
ing, all in the half-guttural, half-liquid tongue of 
Hawaii; the agent, mate, steward, supercargo, — it 
was difficult to settle his office, so altogether useful 
was he, — was about to deposit his bulk (he was big 
enough to carry all the ship’s offices in his single 
body) in the boat, a proceeding which always gave 
the boat the advantage of the sea; in another minute 
they would be off. Fortunately my pack had been 
prepared at Kona, in anticipation of this possible 
diversion at Maui, and with equal lack of ceremony 
my bundle and myself were dropped into the brim¬ 
ming boat, when we disappeared like lumps of sugar 
in a cup of chocolate. Once on land, however, we re¬ 
covered our identity, and looked among the people on 


I AO. 


237 


the wharf for some inquiring face which might recog¬ 
nize us and bid us welcome. None such appearing, 
we were glad to find an express-wagon bound for 
Wailuku, in which we could have a seat. Our stay 
on Hawaii, where carriage-roads give up discouraged 
as soon as they begin, and where a vehicle on wheels 
was almost unknown, gave an air of grandeur to the 
wagon in which we were seated; and the promise of 
passable roads, which these carriages suggested, was 
not unpleasantly indicative of an older civilization 
than we had left behind us. There was nothing in 
the nature of the country immediately surrounding 
us to prevent good roads. A broad plain between 
the mountains of East and West Maui seems made 
for level grading and easy transportation from one 
side of the island to the other. We are soon on our 
way. Before proceeding half a mile, however, we 
meet a carriage drawn by a pair of fine horses, and 
driven by a gentleman who stops our wagon and 
inquires for me. This turns out to be Captain Wil- 
fong, superintendent of the Brewer plantation at 
Wailuku. We need no urging to change vehicles, 
and, turning his horses, the captain takes me over the 
road at a pace and in a style worthy of the Boston 
mill-dam. The scenery along this road is not remark¬ 
able for beauty or sublimity, at least it did not seem 
so, after the picturesque scenes of Oahu and the 
majesty of the views on Hawaii. The road runs too 


238 


“ ALOHA!” 


near the foot of Haleakala, and the ascent of this 
great mountain is too gradual for the spectator at 
this point to apprehend its dignity, and on the other 
side the cliffs and chasms of West Maui hardly hint 
the grandeur which is to be revealed when you reach 
Wailuku and look up the overwhelming valley of Iao. 
We ride along the smooth road, almost repelled by 
the flat expanse around us, with its sparse and unin¬ 
viting vegetation, and only moved by courtesy to 
admire the rugged hill-sides beyond, where even the 
bold kukui hesitates to plant its roots. 

It was not until we reached the plantations and saw 
the great fields of cane, patiently tended and watered 
by Chinese and Hawaiian laborers, and caught glimpses 
of comfortable houses, built and inhabited by Anglo- 
Saxon thrift and taste, and at length found ourselves 
driving through the streets of a tidy farming village, 
and before we were ready to stop brought to the 
door of a vine-embowered dwelling, and hospitably 
welcomed to its genuine New England comfort, graced 
with tropical abundance and variety, that we began 
to feel the beauty and attraction of this island; and 
when we were taken to our room on the western side 
of Captain Wilfong’s house, and found ourselves 
standing at its open doorway and looking straight up 
the great valley which rends in two the mountain- 
wall of West Maui, our admiration was too genuine 
for words. The captain had built a broad walk all 


I AO. 


239 


around the second story of his house. He called it 
his quarter-deck, and from this platform, as from the 
ships he used to sail, he could look abroad in every 
direction and sight the changing world. At his feet 
the clustering roofs and chimneys of his large sugar- 
mill lay directly under his provident eye; below, the 
houses of his workmen were scattered far and wide. 
Beyond these flowed the river, its impetuous youth 
subdued now to a temperate old age, as it neared 
the end of its course and joined the sea. Then the 
ocean carding the white beach, and laying never- 
ceasing rolls of snowy fleece upon the shore. Here 
in this sheltering roadstead the ships drop anchor, 
and the captain, with his glass, gets the first signal of 
their coming as they break the distant blue with their 
white sails, and grow while you look. So a cloud-speck 
in the sky gathers size, sails landward, and brings the 
riches of the sea to clothe Iao in perpetual green. 

We inquire for the “Moi,” the regular packet be¬ 
tween Honolulu and Wailuku, as we stand with the 
captain looking seaward, and are assured that she will 
arrive on the following Tuesday, and return to Hono¬ 
lulu before the week is gone. That will exactly suit us. 
It will give us time to explore Iao, ride to Makawaa, 
take the excursion to the summit of Haleakala, and 
return to Wailuku in time for our return to Oahu, 
where we shall have three or four days before the 
steamer for America arrives from Australia. The 



240 


“ALOHA!” 


captain proposes that we ride up the valley that very 
afternoon. Nothing loath, we agree, and soon after 
dinner we are mounted on our horses and pointed 
for Iao. A gallop through the town, and we are soon 
at the entrance of the valley. From the brow of a 
steep hill we look down upon the river-basin, a flat, 
uninteresting plain, which the shabby houses and 
indifferent cultivation of the natives do little to 
improve. But the upward look already begins to 
hint the coming of a true grandeur. The mountain- 
walls on either side stand up like risen giants that 
before seemed sitting. They shut the door behind 
you as you drive down the steep hill and pass their 
portal. Surely the helpless and yet perfectly fearless 
feeling which comes over a man when he is brought 
face to face with the mightiest works of nature is an 
evidence of faith in a Providence transcending nature. 
There was something forbidding if not intimidating 
in these massive walls, ten or twelve times as high as 
Niagara, on whose tops the sky rested, dropping its 
clouds like curtains down their straight sides, and 
sprinkling the sanctuary they enclosed with the 
“ continual dew ” of its presence. It needed all the 
freshness of coloring which the unbroken vegetation 
carried from base to summit of these walls to relieve 
them of their austerity, and even the threads of light 
which came from the waterfalls with which the black 
clefts on either side were adorned could only dimly 


IAO. 


241 


suggest the redeeming love which faith discerns run¬ 
ning through the power of creation. Despite its 
beauty, Iao is an appalling place. It is so narrow, 
that the traveller feels at the same moment the 
impending majesty of both its sides. The Yosemite, 
with which this valley is sometimes compared (they 
ought rather to be contrasted), seldom afflicts a poor 
mortal with an equal view of its parallel immensities 
at one and the same time. But Iao knows no mercy. 
Whichever way you look, you are confronted by cliffs, 
whose prodigious height gets a supernatural impres¬ 
siveness as the sweeping clouds trail over them and 
help the imagination to believe that they extend 
above the clouds as far as they are seen below. The 
Wailuku (Water of Destruction) River, which runs 
down the valley, leaping from rock to rock of lava, 
and after frequent rainfalls swelling to a resistless 
flood, breaks without relieving the silence of this 
mighty pause in creation. What it whispers the tall 
cliffs shout. After a mile or two of riding along the 
bridle-path which keeps its narrow footing between 
the river and the mountains on the left, we cross the 
stream, and are soon brought into the centre of a per¬ 
fect amphitheatre, its walls from one to two thousand 
feet high, green with fresh foliage from turret to 
foundation-stone, roofed with the sky, hung with 
fleecy clouds, chased with silver waterfalls springing 

from cornice to floor, and relieved of too great 

16 



242 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


uniformity by a lateral ravine on the left, high as the 
wall itself and deep beyond vision, and on the right 
by a ponderous needle of rock, on whose side Cleo¬ 
patra’s obelisk would look no larger than a small 
palm tree. This mountainous boulder, though it had 
broken from the hold of the neighboring cliff, could 
not escape the lighter chains of vegetation. It was 
robed with the unwithering foliage and laced by the 
graceful vines which never fail in this moist valley. 
So fruitful is it, and so favorable to all kinds of vege¬ 
tation, that my host, the captain, had leased the entire 
valley, and planted various trees and grasses there 
difficult of cultivation elsewhere. He took me 
through a low forest of guavas, and suddenly we were 
in a garden of roses, whose great bushes competed 
successfully with the rough growth around them. In 
order to protect his experimental crops, he w r as 
obliged to tabu the valley to the natives and their 
cattle. But I suspect he w T as not a hard landlord, 
for we met a native woman coming down the road as 
we went up, with a basket filled with forbidden 
produce and a deprecating smile on her handsome 
face, which would have disarmed anybody less exact¬ 
ing than the angel wards of Eden. I wish I could 
picture this woman as she appeared to us that day. 
If I w r ere a painter, and wished to put into one figure 
and one scene Haw'aii herself, in all the buxom 
beauty, easy mirth, roving industry, and festive taste 


IAO. 


243 


of her sons and daughters, with all the bravery and 
grace of her natural scenery as a background, I would 
paint that woman coming down the vale of Iao. Her 
face should be of the same rich color which old 
mahogany displays, only of a lighter tint. Just so 

much red should show in either cheek as if it had 

% 

caught the reflection of the roses that enwreathed her 
neck. Her eyes were black as onyx, soft as moon¬ 
stone, and bright as diamonds. She had found the 
glossy-leaved, sweet-scented mail4 in her walk, and 
garlands of it hung from her shoulders, set off by the 
dull dark blue of her flowing holokou. In her hair, 
whose youthful jet was beginning to show the soft¬ 
ening silver of full maturity, she wore a crown of 
fern leaves. She held a long basket, shaped like a 
cornucopia, in one hand. It was filled with forest 
roots and leaves, and, rising above her head, redeemed 
the inferiority of her curt figure. With the other hand 
she gathered up the folds of her long, loose robe, to 
give her footstep freedom in the rough road; and as 
she came towards us, walking under a wide-branching 
bread-fruit tree, with all the mystery and majesty of 
Iao behind her, she seemed the very genius of the 
land. 

The good-natured confidence with which she met 
the landlords inquiry as to her errand here, and the 
smiling confession of her fault as she displayed among 
her spoils the root “of the forbidden tree,” were 


/ 


244 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


characteristic of the Hawaiian Eve. We owe her far 
more than the value of her theft that day for putting 
into the awful perfection of the scene the bit of 
imperfection with whose faults our poor humanity 
could find something akin and social. It was a 
positive relief from the mighty condescension of the 
hills to meet somebody who was not above us. Her 
smiling presence helped also to dispel the gloom 
which settles on these waters of destruction, as we 
recall the slaughter of extermination with which 
Kamehameha choked the valley in the day of his 
conquest of Maui. 

For it was in this terrible strait that Kahekili’s 
army was utterly destroyed. There on the sides of 
the great rock in this Coliseum of nature they fought 
and fell, and the Wailuku dragged their lifeless 
bodies to the sea. It is this association of human 
tragedy with a tremendous scene in nature which 
turns awe into something like fear. I remember 
experiencing the same feeling at the foot of Niagara, 
on the Canada side, when, as I was standing looking 
upwards at its overpowering flood, a negro enveloped 
in water-proof suit suddenly came up from behind 
the falls, and, pointing to the deadly lip of the cat¬ 
aract, described the passage of a boat over it a few 
days before containing two men. “ They rowed as 
long as they could,” he said, “but when they saw 
that it was of no use, they threw their arms around 


IAO. 


245 


each other and went over the fall.” At such a 
moment it was easy to invest this terrible element 
with personal ill-will, and I could conceive that man 
should endeavor to appease the monster with gifts 
and worship. 

Happily Iao. was in a placable mood that after¬ 
noon ; no rain descended from the threatening clouds 
that trailed along its jagged edge. The Wailuku ran 
shallow at the ford, and let our horses carry us over. 
The trees and shrubs and clambering vines were in 
their freshest green. Cliffs of maiden’s-hair, hill¬ 
sides of the geranium-fern (Pteris decipiens ), ravines 
of the light-green kukui tree, plains of guava over¬ 
run with white blossoming passion-flowers, a wealth 
of foliage of which these are but the overflowing of 
the full cup, made the valley as beautiful and charm¬ 
ing in its details as it was overwhelming in its total 
effect. It was like these lives of ours, where we en¬ 
dure and even enjoy in succession what would be 
insupportable if borne or even apprehended in the 
mass. Again and again I was off my*saddle, tempted 
by the rare ferns which stretched out their hands to 
us from every clod or cranny of the rock. Surely this 
is the Paradise of that captivating Pteris which goes 
by the common name of the geranium-fern, from its 
resemblance to its leaf. It grew in tiny dimensions 
from every pore of the lava-rock, or spread in clusters 
of leaves, each as large as a man’s hand, in the richer 


246 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


soil at the foot of the cliffs. Nearly every leaf turned 
up a perfectly seeded specimen. The rapture of picking 
them became fairly breathless as each specimen seemed 
to surpass its predecessors, and we added to the joy 
of their discovery an anticipation of the pleasure they 
would give to our fern-enamoured spouse on our meet¬ 
ing again. Our fern-boards, although newly supplied 
with papers before we started, could not contain the 
riches of our “ find.” Probably we should never see 
so many or such perfect ferns of this species again. 
We excused our rapacity by remembering the many 
friends who would be pleased to get one of them. 
The supply was so abundant, that greed seemed like 
moderation. We recalled the toilsome expedition up 
Paulolo, when we were at Waikiki, and the few and 
feeble specimens of the fern which greeted us there. 
It was the one opportunity in a lifetime to make 
one’s self rich with the Pteris decipiens, and we im¬ 
proved it. 

I doubt if we should have been more elated, as we 
drove homeward, if the strap which went over our 
shoulders and supported our fern-press had carried a 
fortune in gold. There is something in the fern fever, 
when one gets it, so exciting and absorbing, that 
every thing that is not a fern seems of secondary im¬ 
portance. There is danger, unless one is on one’s 
guard, lest this supreme interest should blind the 
traveller to the other beauties by the way. The search 


IAO. 


247 


for ferns becomes so habitual that the fascinated tour¬ 
ist has no eyes for any thing else. In vain the great 
Pacific rolls before him, in one unbroken flood from 
pole to pole, he spies a fern in the cranny of the rock, 
and have it he must. Is he walking to the high 
bridge which spans the deep-flowing Wailuku at Hilo, 
and are the deepening shades of evening lighting up 
the summit-fires of Mauna Loa, he is lost to the rare 
scene if he but thinks he sees a new fern growing out 
of the trunk of the old bread-fruit tree. All through 
the lively woods of Puna or along the forest-path to 
Kilauea, his eyes are searching the undergrowth for 

« 

his peculiar prey. And even as he comes riding home 
from Iao, — Iao the terrible, the beautiful, the only, 
for surely the world has no other valley like it, — his 
thoughts are busier with the pressed volume of fern 
leaves which he hugs to his side, than with the ma¬ 
jesty and wonder of the scenery he has been contem¬ 
plating. Perchance, however, this harmless weakness 
may have its compensations. Perchance, without 
effacing the image of sublimity which the valley has 
left in his memory, this little leaf may relieve the 
mind of too long-continued tension. There is a point 
beyond which the impression of magnitude and beauty 
cannot go. We fly from the infinite to the infinitesi¬ 
mal. Get up, get up, Johnny Smoker (what a name 
for a horse !). The captain leads the way on his rock¬ 
ing steed, and I follow with a mild, canter ; and now 



248 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


we reach the dim portal of the vale again, now we 
bound over its threshold, now up the hill, now down 
the country road, now through the village by-ways, 
and again we are safe at home in the captain’s 
dwelling. 

As I look from my chamber door, which opens di¬ 
rectly upon the quarter-deck, I can see all that Iao 
shows of her magnificence to the outer world. There 
stands the great green gulf, deepening to blackness as 
it retreats behind the mountains ; clouds are hurrying 
from the sea to its crags, like eagles to their eyry; 
the fresh trade-wind stirs the glossy foliage of the 
mangoes, the wavy cane-fields, and the dishevelled 
fringes of the bananas, and rustles among the vines 
that overrun the house. What a close to the day 
which opened for me on the flat and cheerless sands 
of Maalea Bay! We are glad now that we came 
ashore on Maui. 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


249 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 
quarter-deck at Wailuku overlooked 

“ the sandy tracts, 

And the hollow ocean ridges, roaring into cataracts.” 

That way lay Makawao, and to Makawao we must 
go, if we wished to visit Haleakala, the House of the 
Sun. The captain fitted us out, and, foreseeing the 
difficulties of the way, he gave me a horse remarkable 
for what may fairly be called staying qualities. If I 
had chosen to indulge him, I have no doubt that 
“ Johnny Smoker” (for this was his phlegmatic name) 
would have stayed in the captain’s yard till this hour, 
immovably content. But my time was brief. Twelve 
miles of riding, first through the sands, and after¬ 
wards up two thousand feet by winding cliff roads, 
were before us, before we should reach Makawao. 
By dint of spur and scolding I managed to get 
started, and, once going in the gait peculiar to him, 
there was no danger of a relapse. It was fully as 
easy to the horse as standing still, and there seemed 
no reason why he should ever stop, except for food 
and water. In this mechanical fashion we got out of 


250 


“ ALOHA ! 


jj 


the village and over the sand-hills to the stretch of 
shore beyond, and there the liveliness of the sea and 
the freshness of the breeze atoned for our steed’s mod¬ 
eration. There was nothing tame in the cavalry of 
the sea, as they trooped landward, their white manes 
tossing in the air, and their hoofs tramping the 
beach in prolonged and ever-repeated thud. The only 
human life on this long stretch of sand w T as an occa¬ 
sional native urging his horse across the yielding soil 
with merciless impatience. On leaving the sandy 
reaches we struck a firmer land sparsely clothed with 
grass, and here we met at varying distances cattle- 
drivers dashing away in pursuit of their wandering 
and unruly charge. Happily, among these native 
travellers there was one young man whose journey 
led him to Makawao, and we rode within call of each 
other all the way. How we ever got to know each 
other’s purpose, and kept company, I cannot tell. My 
Hawaiian vocabulary was quite as scanty as his knowl¬ 
edge of English, and yet in spite of this tabu on con¬ 
versation we had quite a sociable ride together. The 
substance of my remarks was the repetition of the 
word “ Makawao ? ” in an interrogative way, at every 
new view we caught of plantation or settlement on 
the distant uplands; while my companion contented 
himself with a smiling negative and a gesture, which 
indicated that my goal was further on. A forenoon 
spent in this deaf and dumb way cannot be considered 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


251 


the perfection of social intercourse ; but friendliness 
and companionship were there, and that was no small 
boon to an ignorant traveller.in a foreign land. At 
last we reached a primitive store by the roadside, the 
trading-place, doubtless, of the dwellers in the far-scat¬ 
tered plantations, whose houses and mills had arrested 
our attention as we rode along, and here we found a 
man who could speak English. From him we re¬ 
ceived directions so explicit, that we no longer needed 
any other guide than our memories and eyesight in 

order to find our way to the house of Mr. A-, 

our destined resting-place. And when at length we 
made that last climb up the steep road which leads 
to the little village of Makaw r ao, and turning to the 
left rode to our host’s pretty cottage, embowered in 
trees and gay with flowers; when we felt that life- 
giving breeze which always blows here, either from 
the ocean below or the mountains above, a breeze 
which wonderfully unites the vigor of the temperate 
zones with the softness of the tropics ; when we found 
ourselves made welcome in this ideal resting-place by 
real friends, who an hour before were only strangers 
to us, — we only wanted the company of two people, 
then safe and happy in Honolulu, to make our con¬ 
tentment complete. Mr. A-had been a mission¬ 

ary teacher, and done admirable service in his days of 
health in the elevation and education of the natives. 
But at the time of my visit he was a confirmed inva- 




252 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


lid, imprisoned in his room, and only able to commu¬ 
nicate with the outside world by proxy. He w'as 
happy, however, in having a family well fitted to con¬ 
tinue and increase his influence for good. Some of 
them were in the “States,” earning their education and 
their way to competence at the same time. But be¬ 
sides his intelligent and kindly wife there were two 
children at home, whose goodness and capacity were 
enough to amply second all their fathers plans. Thus 
aided, my host was conducting a large coffee planta¬ 
tion, raising cattle, and maintaining his family; and 
I should have to think long and search far to find a 
lovelier or more comfortable home than I found at 
Makawao. My reception and entertainment by these 
excellent people at that precise time was really an 
excess of hospitality on their part; for, as I afterwards 
learned, they were straining every nerve to get ready 

for a trip to America, where Mr. A-hoped to find 

relief from his disorder. But, in spite of these pre¬ 
occupations, I was made so generously at home, that 
nothing was missing to my perfect entertainment. I 
like to dwell on such ungrudging hospitality, because 
it is not exceptional here. It is an island grace, 
throwing a comfort and happiness over the traveller’s 
recollections of Hawaii, surpassing even the delight 
of its natural beauty and magnificence. Young 

F-, my host’s daughter, was a precocious student 

and collector of ferns. Her collections and arrange- 




MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


253 


ments were eagerly purchased by travellers of taste. 
She knew where every fern in that rarely gifted island 
of Maui had its home. No better guide for a fern- 
hunter could be found. That very afternoon we were 

off with a neighbor, Mrs. H-—, also an enthusiast in 

this pursuit, ransacking the woods for new specimens. 

The best hunt, however, was on the succeeding day, 

when another neighbor, Miss F-, and myself 

started for a ravine some distance up the side of 
Haleakala. It was immediately in the rear of the 
summer house which a fortunate Honolulu family has 
erected on this cool height. And such a rich vein 
surely exists nowhere else in fern-land. Tying our 
horses in the woods, we crept down the side of this 
mountain crack, one or two hundred feet deep. On 
shelving slopes of lateral debris, in crevices of the 
lava cliff, out of pockets in the bed of the evanescent 
mountain stream, amid jungles of coarse grass, on the 
limbs of old trees, everywhere in this long gorge, the 
most exquisite and uncommon ferns were growing in 
prodigal abundance. I saw a whole bank of Davallia 
Alexandria that unique and perfect fern, found, I be¬ 
lieve, nowhere else. In the cool moss, still dripping with 
water, although the rocky bed of the ravine was dry, 
we found the little hairy Polypodium Hookeri , no com¬ 
mon specimen. Asplenia and Pterides, known and 
picked in other places, but never so beautifully devel¬ 
oped as here, rewarded our search. And why should 




254 


ALOHA ! ” 


I conceal the rapture—no other word is strong enough 
for the sensation — with which I came upon a thrifty 
bunch of my longed-for Gymnogramme Javanica, the 
cynosure of the choice collection we had studied at 
Hilo ? There it was, growing familiarly with other 
ferns and grasses, as if it were not the queen it is, and 
worthy of a throne by itself. I doubt if any miner 
returning from successful digging in California or Aus¬ 
tralia ever felt richer than I did on my return from 
that day’s ferning. And why not ? What is the sub¬ 
stance of wealth but its capacity to minister to our 
enjoyment ? And here in my fern-press, clutched to 
my side as I galloped home that afternoon, were the 
means of as true enjoyment as any thing short of love 
and religion could furnish. 

Let no man despise this bloodless hunting in which 
we were engaged. I do not scruple to say that I pre¬ 
fer it to hunting wild goats on Hualalai. There is 
nothing tame or girlish about it. It has its spice of 
danger, indeed, if that is the necessary condition of 
manly sport. Scaling those cliffs and threading those 
deep cuts in Haleakala is something more than child’s 
play, I assure you. If I chose to make the most of 
the peril of that venturesome climb of mine up the 
precipitous wall of the ravine in an attempt to reach 
the upper world again, I could make a very pretty 
story of risk encountered and accident narrowly es¬ 
caped. Having the tree on which you are depending 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


255 


suddenly give way, and falling a hundred feet, more 
or less, is sufficiently hazardous even for the most 
adventurous spirit. But I forbear. Enough that 
fern-hunting takes you into the same woods, over the 

same roads, out into the same wild, free, open life, as 

/ 

any other hunting, and at the same time you have the 
generous satisfaction of knowing that you shed no¬ 
body’s blood but your own. 

But all this is but preliminary to the supreme piece 
of mountaineering which is before us, that for which, 
above all other purposes, we have come to Maui 
namely, the ascent of Haleakala; 

Lorrin A-was my guide. We started at half¬ 

past one o’clock in the morning. The only alterna¬ 
tive, if one wishes to see the sun rise from the sum¬ 
mit, is to go up and pass the night there. We chose 
the former, as the least of the two evils. How still 
the sleeping world was on that dim morning, when 
we mounted our horses at the stable door, pushed 
through the little lane into the open road, and, with 
no visible eye upon us but the sleepless stars’, began 
our trip to the dwelling-place of Light, Haleakala, 
the Sun-house ! The first stage of the ascent was but 
a repetition of yesterday’s excursion, in other com¬ 
pany, and by night instead of day. 

But when we had got out of the woods and were 
fairly on the intermediate stretch of demolished lava 
and scrub vegetation which leads to the utter desola- 



256 


ALOHA ! ” 


tion of the top, the moon came out and brightened 
the way to sunrise. Was she wondering, at us, toiling 
up this high mountain to see a big crater ? Was she 
thinking of her own spent fires and extinct volcanoes, 
and priding herself on her supreme desolation ? What 
a tramp she might set us, over topless mountains and 
bottomless pits, if we would extend our journey to 
her realm ! We decline the invitation. Haleakala is 
quite enough for us. Ten thousand feet of rock, ashes, 
and stubble suffice. And now moonlight melts into 
day. The light of early morning is all around us, al¬ 
though no glimpse as yet of the sun appears. We do 
not know whether it has risen above the waves of the 
Pacific or not. Between us and the east this huge 
wall still stands and makes a second dawn. 

Lorrin prophesies a clear view from the main-top, if 
we can climb there before the sun is well up, — a 
mountainous “if,” with our tired horses and this 
execrable going. The clouds already begin to hover 
around and below us. They will surely fill the bowl 
of the crater erelong. Making the best speed we 
can, we come at last to the usual camping-ground, 
and there leave our horses. Once on our own feet, we 
make quick time to the big rocks that overlook Hale¬ 
akala, and at length it lies before us, — a disappoint¬ 
ment seven miles long. Yes, the first impression is 
disappointing. Why house of the Sun ? Better say, 
his tomb. This monstrous urn, with a heap of ashes 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


257 


within it, is all sepulchral in its suggestions. We were 
never partial to mummies, and the size of them does 
not make them more attractive. Volcanoes have no 
right to be extinct. They cease to be volcanoes when 
they cease to act. It may be that I was suffering at 
that moment from the effect of too highly colored 
representations of the scene. The descriptions of 
guide-books and travellers so often disconcert Nature, 
and substitute a startling sensation for a deepening 
impressiveness, which is her better and more custom¬ 
ary way. For whatever reason, I am not at first very 
profoundly moved by the sight. I have looked down 
two thousand feet before, and into far more beautiful 
deeps than this. I have seen oceans of clouds, and 
the sun shining on their upper surfaces, from the top 
of Mount Washington, years ago. If the miracle of 
this view is in its fiery origin, what other origin had 
the peaks and vales of the Sierra Nevadas ? Is this 
lapse of lava any more wonderful than the subsidence 
which made the valley of the Yosemite ? And how 
unspeakably more beautiful and grand is that redeemed 
fall of nature than this penitential but not yet re¬ 
stored defaulter ! I am giving only first impressions. 
By and by, as the magnitude of the pit, nineteen miles 
in circumference ; the height of its distant cones, three 
to seven hundred feet, showing no more than ant¬ 
hills ; the suggestiveness of its two black lava rivers 

escaping towards the east and north, and recalling the 

17 


258 


ALOHA ! 


u 




fearful day of past judgment for Haleakala, when the 
secret of its fiery heart was disclosed.—were impressed 
upon us ; and gradually, in the gray but not melan¬ 
choly waste around us, now the great mountain-sum¬ 
mits of Hawaii, now West Maui, now the sea of 
waters below the sea of clouds, and Lanai or Molokai, 
half hid in trailing mists, — these visions of a world 
of loveliness and fertility surrounding and compen¬ 
sating the lifeless pit below came to our relief, and 
we began to feel some of the emotion proper to the 
place. Nevertheless, if we had to choose between 
the enjoyment of visiting Iao and that of ascending 
Haleakala, we should certainly choose the former. 
Better take Haleakala on hearsay, than miss the 
indescribable glory of the great valley of Wailuku. 

On our way down the mountain we stopped and 
lunched near a scanty brook in one of the innumer¬ 
able gulches that line its sides. But the refreshment 
of the repast was as nothing compared with the 
excitement of finding magnificent specimens of the 
Aspidium Haleakalense, — that rare and perfect fern, 
growing nowhere else in the world. We reached 
home in the early afternoon, sufficiently weary from 
our trip to thoroughly enjoy a bath, a bed, and, after 
sleep, the delicious supper which awaited us. Our 
friends from Wailuku, the captain and his wife, are 
spending the day with my entertainers. As we sit at 
table in the airy dining-room, all one side of it an 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


259 


open trellis-work, through which the appetizing 
breezes of Makawao come and go, and share the 
delicious coffee and varied fruits this comprehensive 
land and climate offer, it seems the spot above all 
others we have seen where a family of Northern 
birth, accustomed to bracing air, might thrive and be 
happy. True, the world of men and their exciting 
interests and daily news is far away. But every place 
has its local interests, and I find my host is as earnestly 
attentive to the wants and prospects of Hawaii as 
we in America are to our country’s needs. Among 
these scattered plantations there are excellent, cul¬ 
tivated, interesting people; enough, no doubt, for 
social needs, unless one is wholly dependent upon 
frequent and general visiting. During the year, vis¬ 
itors from other islands, notably in the summer from 
Honolulu, come to Makawao, and every few days 
either the “ Kilauea ” on one side or the “Ka Moi” on 
the other brings letters and papers. The captain says 
that the regular sailing-vessel, the “Ka Moi,” will 
arrive at Wailuku this very day. He cannot say 
when she will return, but assuredly within the week. 
The next morning I learn to my dismay that the “Moi ” 
will not go to Honolulu before Tuesday. This will 
not suit my convenience, as the steamer for San Fran¬ 
cisco, on which we must take passage, is expected to 
leave Honolulu on Wednesday. What other chance 
is there of getting to Honolulu this week ? I hear 


260 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


that a sloop lies at anchor in Malico Bay, the port of 
Heiku. So I ride down to Heiku plantation, and 
learn that this sloop, the “ Live Yankee,” will sail 
to-morrow evening. Hurrying on to Wailuku, over 
the “ sandy tracts ” again, I collect my luggage for 
the next day’s departure. A little shopping, a little 
visiting, and one more ride to the portal of Iao, to col¬ 
lect some more of the geranium-fern, and take one 
last look at the awful beauty of that incomparable 
valley, and I am ready to depart. A native horseman 
accompanies me to bring back my horse from Malico 
Bay. Encouraged by his companionship and spurred 
on by the native's familiar voice, Johnny Smoker 
made such unusual time that we were at Malico Bay 
at least six hours before the sloop was ready to set 
sail. All that afternoon w~e w r aited in solitary enjoy¬ 
ment of the bold headlands, the retreating beach, the 
crisp and sparkling waves, the droves v of cattle pas¬ 
turing in the green intervale between the hills, the 
easy industry of the native stevedores, filling the boat 
again and again with barrels of sugar and rowing it 
to the sloop. Would that our admiration had em¬ 
braced the “Live Yankee” itself! But enthusiasm 
has its limits, and mine stopped short of that weather¬ 
beaten craft, tossing ominously in the offing, and 
daring me to come on board. With tolerable weather 
the vessel ought to reach Honolulu the next fore¬ 
noon. We were assured of that. What sorrow might 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


261 


not be borne for a night, with the joy of Honolulu 
and its welcome coming in the morning? I was 
more than ready to embark, in spite of the doubtful 
complexion and temper of this sugar-laden sloop. It 
added greatly to my satisfaction, however, to find 
that I should not be the only white or English-speak¬ 
ing passenger. Young Mr. B-of Wailuku would 

take the trip with me; he, like myself, being ready 
for any sacrifice that would bring him to his wife and 
family the next day. The captain and his wife and 
two seamen, all Hawaiians, and one poor vagabond 
Chinaman, made up the ship’s list. How my fellow- 

white, Mr. B-, ever found courage to descend into 

that sugar-scented, bug-frequented hold which passed 
for a cabin, or, having gone down, how he ever got 
the strength to come up again, is to this day a conun¬ 
drum to me. Less venturesome, I threw myself full- 
length among the luggage, my head resting on my 
saddle-bags, and with one hand clutching the com¬ 
panion-way, to keep from rolling into the sea at some 
lurch of the sloop, I entered upon the watches of the 
night. Sleep, if it had been possible, would have 
been dangerous; at least the hand that kept me on 
board must be awake. The heavily laden vessel 
shipped water so plentifully, that I had only to fall 
to the deck to find a tolerable sea on board; but the 
same hand which kept me from the ocean kept me 
from the deck. Every moment of that wretched 




262 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


night between Maui and Oahu is soaked into my 
memory: the rush of the sliding, slippery water 
over the deck, — ugh ! I hear it now; the suffocating 
sugar bilge from the neighboring cabin, — paugh! 
the dead calm at midnight, and the helpless floating 
of the sloop on the black waters. So have I seen 
the cork of an ink-bottle that had gone the wrong 
way miserably floating on the ink within. Then, at 
length, the breeze, stiff and heady, and plunging the 
bow under water now and then. I more than sus¬ 
pect the helmsman of shipping those seas for the 
special disadvantage of the poor little Chinaman, 
curled up like a dried fish under cover of the long¬ 
boat, and silently enduring a worse than Californian 
persecution. The latent grudge which the Hawaiian 
always has against the Chinaman showed itself in 
this mischievous aggravation of my fellow-passenger’s 
miseries. I had seen the ghostly figure flitting un¬ 
easily about in the dim starlight, seeking rest and 
finding none, until he finally settled himself under 
the lee of the sloop’s boat. Even in my depth of 
misery I had room for pity towards his w T oe-begone 
condition. But the suppressed chuckle of the helms¬ 
man just behind me when an extra wave leaped over 
the bow and drenched the wretched Celestial proved 
that there was no pity in his heart, and more of 
human design than accident in the seas we shipped. 

Well, the longest night must have an end. This 


MAKAWAO AND HALEAKALA. 


263 


ended in a fair, clear day, with hardly a ripple upon 
the ocean. It was worse than the night, for then we 
could not clearly see ourselves or our destination, 
and with a short exception we were moving all the 
time towards the end. But to lie almost stationary 
opposite the inviting shores of Oahu, and feel that no 
power but the listless wind of a mid-Pacific noon 
can take you there, is, to speak mildly, a lavish ex¬ 
penditure of patience. It was like going to the 
panorama and having the machinery refuse to act, so 
that one scene stands before you like a tiresome, albeit 
a magnificent, drop-curtain. The drooping pennon 
feebly lapped the upright mast. The sails withered 
and wrinkled in the hot sun. The flying-fish skipped 
mockingly past us. The little Chinaman lay in a heap, 
rough-dry, like a bundle of clothing in the laundry 
waiting for the ironing. Tears of molasses began 
to ooze from the barrels of sugar. Our Hawaiian 
skipper smiled and waited. We waited and sighed. 
It came at last, the longed-for breeze, and took us to 
the pier in time for a bath before the noontide lunch 
with our dear old friends in Honolulu. 


264 


“ ALOHA 1 ” 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 

I "'HE thought of our speedy departure makes us 
greedy to pick up every crumb of memory. 
Recalling the single chapter which we have given to 
the story of our visit in Honolulu, we see that the 
half has not been told. Here we are, on the last week 
of our sojourn in the Islands, with hardly time to 
shake our friends by the hand and say “ Farewell,” 
and Honolulu, the capital, and compend of the whole 
archipelago, has its praises only half sung. A dozen 
interesting and characteristic incidents of which we 
were a part come freshly to mind, and beg for a word 
of description. “ Have you forgotten the Sunday 
morning when you worshipped in my sanctuary ? ” 
old Kaumakapili seems to say. And I, remembering 
the great native church,—a mountain of roof set upon 
a pedestal of concrete hardly ten feet high ; its white¬ 
washed inner walls, and canopy of thatch; its rude 
but not unsightly pews and pulpit; its congregation 
of native Hawaiians and their noble minister, Kuaea, 
— am glad to fix the image of that Sundays sendee. 
The novelty of the place and its company, and the 
unknown tongue in which the service was conducted, 



HONOLULU AGAIN. 


265 


must share with me the blame of a wandering mind 
and an observation of my neighbors more curious 
than devout. From my seat near the door I can 
command a view of the whole congregation. I see 
Kuaea looming above his little pulpit like a pillar in 
the house of our God, as he is, the choir in the upper¬ 
most seats on one side the pulpit, and the heads of 
the worshipping assembly, in every attitude of atten¬ 
tion, negligence, or devotion, as it happens. The 
preacher is a marked man. His six feet or more of 
height and goodly proportions give him a commanding 
presence of body. But the terror of his size is wholly 
dispelled by the amiable expression of his countenance 
and the gracious simplicity of his speech and action. 

His manner was both devotional and natural, — a 
rare union, —and when he was aroused by the great¬ 
ness of his message, he was a magnificent orator. He 
has been called the “ Webster ” of Hawaiian speakers, 
and I could see enough of the weight of his address 
and the richness of his eloquence, without understand¬ 
ing what he said, to believe the comparison not unjust. 

One singular custom of this church showed that the 
wisdom of the serpent was not wanting in Oahu, if 
the serpent himself was unknown there. The church 
tithes were collected in a manner calculated to secure 
both promptness and fulness. The clerk called out 
the names of the parishioners in open meeting, and 
each one, on being summoned, walked up to the desk 


266 


ALOHA ! 


u 


)) 


and laid the expected tribute there, in full sight of 
the whole congregation. No obliging contribution 
box concealed the poverty of the offering in its pro¬ 
miscuous store, but there it lay, large or small, by 
itself, before the church collector and the assembled 
people. The Hawaiian complexion is so inconvenient 
for blushing that modesty or shame had to express 
itself in some other way, and the spirit of the giver 
must be inferred from his bearing or gesture as he 
pays the necessary tax. I could see no sign of un¬ 
willingness or embarrassment on the part of these native 
contributors. They gave as if they were accustomed 
to giving. Evidently their natural generosity does 
not fail them when they enter the church. No more 
do some of their less admirable traits, if I may judge 
by the little unpleasantness which has arisen in the 
pew in front of me. A small boy, impatient of the 
service, and angry with the maternal rebuke pitilessly 
given, is showing his disgust by butting his mother 
with his unruly head. Every attack calls forth an 
answering push from the indignant mother, and a 
mischievous-looking woman in front turns around in 
evident enjoyment of the scene, and provokes the boy 
to renewed hostility by her frowns and jeers. The 
combat thickens, until finally, in wrathful majesty, the 
woman rises, drags the child to his feet, and goes 
sweeping down the aisle, pushing the little shadow of 
her own temper before her, and w r holly unconscious 
that it is her own shadow'. 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


267 


At Kawaiahao, the other native church of Hono¬ 
lulu, Rev. H. H. Parker preaches. The church is of 
stone, very large, and interesting for the missionary 
associations which cluster about it. The interment 
of the late King Lunalilo in its burial-ground, and 
the stately tomb erected over his remains, add to its 
interest. Eight or ten immense kahilis, or feather 
standards, such as are borne in the royal processions, 
stand around the king’s last resting-place, their van¬ 
ished glory telling sadly the last triumph of a king. 
In the vestry behind the church I find a lively Sun¬ 
day school, superintended by Mr. S. B. Dole, who, 
like so many of the sons of missionaries, maintains the 
work of the fathers, although belonging himself to 
the legal profession. Interpreted by him, I speak to 
the children, and am delighted by their quick respon¬ 
siveness. Their singing of the “ Armor-Bearer ” and 
“ Lei Rose” was as spirited and perhaps as unspiritual 
as the best of our home Sunday schools could offer. 

On another Sunday I attended the services of the 
Bethel and the Fort Street Church, the worshipping- 
place of the resident foreigners who prefer the Con¬ 
gregational order. There is an English cathedral of 
modest proportions in the city, and a Roman Catholic 
church. Apropos of the English Church, I can think 
of nothing better to tell than a story of one of its 
former clergymen. The bishop, on his return to Lon¬ 
don, went one evening to a grand reception. Full of 


268 


“ALOHA ! ” 


that inverted self-respect which official position so 
commonly confers, he approached the reception-room, 
passed its august portal, and, to his mingled horror 
and amusement, heard himself announced by the sten¬ 
torian usher as the “ Bishop of Hullabaloo ! ” If the 
English Episcopal Church were less sure than it is of 
its own importance, I should have little expectation 
of its success in these islands. Its faith in itself may 
awaken faith in others. In Honolulu, if anywhere, it 
should prosper. The English residents and visitors 
might sustain it there. 

But it may prevail after all, if Congregational Prot¬ 
estantism should lose the sense of its priceless liberty 
or omit the safeguards of its traditional order. The 
form of Episcopacy, however, which has been im¬ 
ported into Honolulu, being what is called high- 
church, will have no advantage over Romanism in its 
appeal to the natives. Already the Church of Rome 
has made many converts among the impressionable 
Hawaiians, and it may be that its firm hand will yet 
take hold of the people whom the Congregational 
Church holds with ever-loosening grasp. If all the 
prelates of the Roman Church have as much candor 
and common-sense as one of whom I heard the fol¬ 
lowing anecdote, their personal influence might go far 
to neutralize the superstitious influences of their 
church. There was a famous game-cock in Hono¬ 
lulu, able to whip any competitor which might be 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


269 


brought against him. He had proved his prowess 
and superiority in many a fight. But this cock had 
one singular trait. He would never fight on Sun¬ 
day. Any chick ‘in' the coop could make him duck 
his head and run away on the Christian’s day of rest. 
This was no mere accident or casual occurrence. 
It was an invariable custom, and seemed to show a 
fixed principle in the bird not to fight on that day. 
When the singular fact was made known to the priest, 
he said : “ I can explain it to you. On Sundays my 
church bell is ringing. It is the sound of that which 
frightens the cock. Watch him on any feast-day when 
the bell rings, and see if it is not so.” And sure 
enough, it was the bell and not the day which lay 
at the bottom of this athletic rooster’s Sabbatarian 
scruples. 

I owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Damon, the vet¬ 
eran minister of the Bethel, less perhaps for the privi¬ 
leges of Sunday worship in his church — much as I 
enjoyed his preaching on the one occasion when I was 
able to worship there — than for the polite attentions 
and useful courtesies w r hich he bestowed upon me. 
It was he who took me to visit the school or college 
at Punahou, where the youth of the Islands receive 
their higher education. 

While there I listened to an admirable recitation in 
Greek conducted by Mr. Damon’s son and his small 
but intelligent class, and then in the large upper hall I 


270 


ALOHA ! ” 


heard a succession of themes and recitations, which 
were no worse and no better than such performances in 
a school of the same grade are at home. The value of 
compulsory writing never seemed to me very great, 
and I saw nothing in these exercises to change my 
opinion. But the school itself, with its earnest teach¬ 
ers and scholars, was a worthy evidence of the home¬ 
bred love of learning which New England colonists 
always carry with them wherever they may go; and 
when I recalled the intelligent people I had met, now 
taking the lead in the society and business of Hawaii, 
and reflected that many of them were educated here, 
especially when I considered that some of our own 
best citizens in America were graduates from this 
college, and among them our friend Armstrong, of 
Hampton, Va., who learned in the Hawaiian Islands 
the secret of his successful treatment of the freedmen 
of the South, I felt that this institution stood the 
real test of excellence, in the character and services 
of its graduates. 

I was much amused and not at all indignant to 
hear one of the students, in a composition upon 
“ Boston,” describe the inhabitants of that familiar 
city as inclined to think themselves superior to all 
other people. It reminded me of a brilliant school¬ 
mate of mine who once asked me in all frankness if 
it was conceited in a man to be clever and to know 
it. But every school must have an end, like the other 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


271 


troubles of life, and Punahou dismisses its pupils and 
us punctually at twelve. Then the boys and girls 
drive off in their Hawaiian omnibus or in private 
vehicles to their several homes, and Father Damon 
and I follow their example. 

In visiting a new country I like to see the people 
in three places, — in theatres or places of amusement, 
where they forget themselves; in churches, where 
they remember themselves; and in schools, where 
they remember their children. Of course the home 
would be the best post of observation, because there 
the people do all three and show themselves as they 
are. But homes are castles which travellers cannot 
always enter. The schools, churches, and theatres are 
the indices which all may study. 

I have already described the Hawaiians in their 
churches, and we saw some of them at school in Hilo ; 
but where shall we find them at play ? There is only 
one theatre in the Islands, and that is a foreign im¬ 
portation, very small, seldom opened, and only patron¬ 
ized by the white population of Honolulu. But there 
will be no difficulty in finding the Hawaiians at play. 
Their work is chiefly sport. Go to their fishing vil¬ 
lages, their taro patches, the street corners where 
they congregate, or better still to their great fish- 
market in the city, and you will see the real theatre 
of Honolulu. Reserve is not a Hawaiian failing, and 
here the people let themselves out with a freedom 


272 


ALOHA ! ” 


which leaves nothing to be desired in the way of 
self-revelation. The place itself is shabby, as fish- 
markets have a right to be, its main recommendation 
being its openness to sun and air. Covering was 
given the fish in small booths, and the people wan¬ 
dered about in an unconscious spectacular glory of 
brilliant coloring and effective grouping such as is 
seldom seen upon the stage. The brilliancy of the 
colored holukus, — crimson, blue, yellow, black, and 
brown,—and the blazonry of the gaudy leis were only 
equalled by the dresses in which nature had robed 
the fishes themselves. Pink, purple, yellow, green, 
orange, black, or all these colors combined, and 
dazzling the eye with a sheen of the mother-of-pearl 
thrown over all, they lay in piles or rows, awaiting a 
purchaser. It needed all the glory of their covering 
to redeem the ugliness of their forms and features. 
Such whimsical shapes and odd expressions are never 
seen in the fish of our North Atlantic coast. Look¬ 
ing at them, I recall a book of colored drawings of 
the fishes of the South Pacific, owned by Dr. Wet- 
more of Hilo, but prepared originally, I believe, for 
Agassi^ in which the combined ugliness and splendor 
of submarine evolution is fully exhibited. I also 
remember the charming effect of these gayly colored 
fishes as they lay in the deep blue waters of 
Kealakakua Bay, and swayed gently to and fro above 
the brown rocks or over the tufts of coral. But 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


273 


there was one curious creature there which I did not 
see in the market at Honolulu, and yet he would not 
have been misplaced amidst these spoils of death 
and the fishermen. The natives called it a coffin-fish, 
and the name exactly described the creature. It was 

• s 

the exact shape of the thing which gave it its name, 

and, seen from above as it pushed its way through 

the waters with filmy and invisible fins, it seemed to 

enter the gay company of revellers in their heedless 

play like a melancholy warning of decay. Little do 

either people or fish reck of death, however, so long 

as they can revel in their natural elements. The 

noisy, joking, frolicking crowd—pricing and handling 

and tasting, now a ball of sea-weed ( limn ), delectable 

sauce to every fish, now a dried mullet, now a pink 

ohua or a bit of squib, all as nature serves them; 

or taking their slippery jmrchase home with them, 

swathed in broad bands of ti leaves, tied with the 

fibre of the cocoa-nut husk — take life carelesslv in 

•/ 

a glad and not unwarranted faith that besides their 
present bounty there are as good fish in the sea as 
ever were caught. I go home with my friend and 
guide through this Hawaiian festival of fish, bearing 
to our cook a bright pink ohua in leafy bondage. Of 
the two, Ah Me or the fish, I should have judged the 
former was to be sacrificed, so utterly had the mel¬ 
ancholy of the kitchen and the oppression of past 
opium possessed him. 


18 


274 


“ ALOHA! 


Shall I add to this picture of the people at their 
play a description of election day, and the sights and 
sounds which invested the government buildings? 
Here, if anywhere, the earnestness of competition 
and the genuine passion of native ambition and 
suspicion of foreign influence will show themselves. 

I go with my friend, J. C-, who is a government 

employ^, and with his intelligent guidance and ex¬ 
planation I can understand the significance of the 
several groupings and excited speech-making. Surely 
the “ Bishop of Hullabaloo ” might find his parish¬ 
ioners in this crowd. An epidemic of gabble and 
gesture seemed to have seized the entire male portion 
of the city. Four representatives to the legislature 
were to be chosen, and there were twenty different 
tickets in the field. The candidates were urging their 
claims upon the voters with amusing shamelessness. 
From group to group they passed in familiar conver¬ 
sation, or, mounted in cheap-jack fashion on a cart, 
they harangued the undecided crowd. Inside the 
building every thing was most quiet and orderly. 
Each voter w r as obliged to show his receipted tax-bill 
before depositing his vote. A lively business was 
transacted under the very eaves of the government 
building in supplying delinquent tax-payers with 
receipted bills, the understanding being that they 
should vote as their banker desired. I should judge 
that civil-service reform had not progressed much 



HONOLULU AGAIN. 


2/5 


further in Honolulu than in Washington or New 
York, for government officials were very active in the 
electioneering. The king’s men in their reel Garibaldi 
shirts ran through the dark crowd like sparks over 
the backlog of an open wood-fire. Here, there, and 
everywhere they plied their loyal trade, and sought 
to fire the Hawaiian heart. Rather fiery material if 
once ignited, as former elections have shown! The 
leading men were by no means secure about the 
peaceful termination of that day’s contest. My host 
at Waikiki did not return to his shelter that night, 
mistrusting some popular outbreak. The anger of 
these people when once aroused, as on the occasion 
of the choice of the last king, has no bounds to its 
ferocity, and is ready to tear its victims in pieces. 
Men talk of the probability of this people’s dying 
out by gradual and peaceable decline. I could more 
easily conceive of its blowing up by violent irruption. 
Unless time and contact with the weaknesses of civil¬ 
ization have changed their nature, it would be deny¬ 
ing their ancestry to succumb to any foreign yoke 
without a fight. “ Hawaii for the Hawaiians ! ” is 
still their popular cry, and while enough of them 
live to constitute a nation, let no grasping power 
from abroad dispute their freedom or seek to woo 
them from their independence ! 

I am dwelling upon the native population of Hono¬ 
lulu, as if they were its chief inhabitants, socially as 


2/6 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


well as numerically. But Honolulu is socially the 
Paris of the Pacific, the most cosmopolitan city, per¬ 
haps, in the Western Hemisphere. At one of the 
afternoon concerts on Emma Square, the king’s 
Hawaiian band, led by a Prussian, discourses music 
to the listening ears of every type of man, from 
the swarthy Papuan to the delicate Caucasian. Very 
naturally, during my brief stay in the city, I saw most 
of the American residents, and especially those of 
New England extraction. One party given in our 
honor by a Boston friend was composed exclusively 
of Boston people. It filled the large parlors of the 
host, it is needless to say, with most agreeable men 
and women. New England people bear transplant¬ 
ing well. Their variable climate makes them at home 
everywhere. If any place is hot, they have felt hotter 
weather at home ; if cold, they have been where it is 
colder. They have the well-grounded assurance that 
they can endure any climate after weathering their 
own. They are recognized, wherever they go, as 
strong and sturdy forces in the culture, enterprise, 
and civilization of their adopted country. And if 
they could overcome that partiality for the land of 
their birth, — though Heaven send they never may ! 
— that leaning towards Boston which gives them a 
little one-sided look wherever you find them, they 
might be as graceful as they are trustworthy members 
of the local society in which they dwell. 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


2 77 


One eminently Americo-Hawaiian evening which I 
spent at the residence of my host at the capital must 
find a description in this chapter of farewell to Hono¬ 
lulu. The Cousins’ Society held its monthly meet¬ 
ing, and I was an invited guest. This society was 
originally composed only of children, or other rela¬ 
tives, of the American missionaries. It now admits 
other eligible persons as members. They call each 
other “ cousin,’’ — a relief from the conventional 
“ brother” and “ sister” of church associations. The 
best way of describing the objects and methods of the 
“ Cousins’ Society ” will be to report the meeting I 
attended. It was opened by prayer by the President, 
Mr. George Dole. Then followed good old “ Zion,” 
heartily sung by the whole congregation. Then a writ¬ 
ten paper by Cousin C. J-, containing the news 

of the past month, pithily told and wittily annotated, 
was read. This was followed by choice quartette 
singing; and then a paper on “ Dr. Guthrie of Edin¬ 
burgh,” suggested by his recently published biog¬ 
raphy, was read by Cousin F. D-. It was a paper 

well worthy of a place in one of our best magazines, 
and it showed how high the standard of workman¬ 
ship was in this little society. It was happily suc¬ 
ceeded by more music; and then Miss M-of Bos¬ 

ton read a sparkling paper, concluding with a felicitous 
piece of verse on “ Our Boston Tea Party.” Still 
another paper and more music, followed by an earnest 





2/8 


“ ALOHA!” 


discussion of the question, “ How to keep absent mem¬ 
bers — that is, our American cousins — familiar with 
the doings of the society ; ” and then a collection was 
taken up for the benefit of the Mission to the South 

Pacific Islands. Cousin C-, who had just returned 

from a visit to these islands, in the missionary barque, 
the “ Morning Star,” was expected to tell the story of 
his voyage to the society, but was kept away by ill¬ 
ness. After some brief speech-making, the meeting 
closed with the Missionary Chant, sung by all. To 
me it was an evening of rare enjoyment and profit. 
I do not see why this “ Cousins’ Society ” does not 
give a perfect example of the best method of com¬ 
bining social intercourse, humane sympathy, religious 
co-operation, literary and aesthetic enjoyment, and 
friendly feeling. It is far in advance of the meetings 
I have often attended at home, when one of these 
objects has been made the single purpose of the even¬ 
ing. Culture gets its needed counterpoise in human¬ 
ity ; and philanthropy feels the relief of song, as its 
earnest workers discuss together their endless labors 
and fatiguing plans. This resolute yet genial society 
could only have come from the missionary spirit and 
experience in which these young people had grown 
up. It was the natural outcome of the seed which 
went with the heralds of a Christian civilization from 
these New England shores half a century ago. Would 
it not be well for us to borrow the plans and methods 



HONULULU AGAIN. 


2/9 


of these Hawaiian cousins for the reconstruction of 
our own societies ? It would be only another instance 
of what has been repeatedly shown in the history of 
missions, namely, that the reaction of missionary zeal 
and enterprise upon the churches which send forth 
their gospel is as salutary as its direct influence upon 
foreign converts. 

But this meeting must not hold too long. It is 
time that the reader be dismissed. He shall only be 
summoned once again, ere this chapter closes, to fol¬ 
low us in sympathy as we start out to make our fare¬ 
well calls upon the people who have been so kind to 
us. Kai Kalo brings the newly purchased horse and 
buggy to the door, and Madame and I set out upon 
our social pilgrimage. We get safely out of the 
home avenue, and into the road, when suddenly the 
horse stops ; and no persuasion of word, insistance of 
whip, or derision of the passing natives can move 
him. Nuuanu Avenue rises just here, and the crea¬ 
ture knows it. Mount it he will not. He is willing 
to turn and go in the easy direction, but that we do 
not wish. It is a contest of obstinacy, and I propose 
to fight it out. In other words, I get my book and a 
lunch, and sit in the carriage enjoying them, while 
the horse stands there. I have the better of him. I 
can eat, and he cannot. I can read just as comfort¬ 
ably in the carriage as in the house. I propose to 
starve the creature into submission. But after an 


280 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


hour or two of ineffectual waiting, finding that the 
calls would not be made in that way, and knowing 
that they must be made forthwith, I was led to take 
another and more pliable horse and go the rounds 
with him. Pohaku-nui, or the Big Stone, was not 
speedy, but he did not balk. We afterwards learned 
that the new horse had been harnessed with a check- 
rein, — a restraint he was not used to, and that that 
was the cause of all his obstinacy. Alas ! how many 
of us are provoked to the same vice by over-restraint! 
I am sure I have seen children who balked at their 
elders’ commands who only needed a little loosening 
of the cheek-rein to make them tractable. Our drive 
took us up the beautiful avenue, between the em¬ 
bowered houses, bright with the pink Mexican 
creeper and the flaming Bougainvilleas, and stately 
with palm trees, along an upland street which over¬ 
looked the garden-like city and the blue sea beyond 
it, down again into the unique streets, with their 
leisurely shops and retired houses, and groups of 
unambitious natives stringing leis and talking gossip, 
and home past the residence of ex-Queen Emma, 
where we saw a building whose entire roof was 
covered with an unbroken mass of the most brilliant 
magenta color, —the dazzling display of an immense 
Bougainvillea. And so the pageant closes; and the 
high festival of beauty, wit, good cheer, and friendly 
companionship in which we have been spending our 


HONOLULU AGAIN. 


281 


winter vacation is at an end. Not quite, as the 
morrow will show. One more round of travel and 
exploration awaits me. If my arms had been long 
enough, I would have clasped the whole island in 
one last good-bye embrace; but, failing that, I took 
the circuit of Oahu on horseback, and the story of 
that ride shall fill our farewell chapter. 


282 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


AROUND OAHU. 


Monday, April 24, 1876. 


HE steamer from Australia for San Francisco 



is due on Wednesday. The tour around Oahu 
seems impossible. But we must see the great 
Pali, at the head of Nuuanu Avenue. Every enter¬ 
prising traveller sees that, although he may stay in 
Honolulu less than one day. Here was I, on the 
verge of leaving Oahu for ever, and no sight of the 

Pali yet. So when H-came home this afternoon 

at two o’clock and proposed to ride to the Pali, I 
joyfully agreed; and away we went, he on his own 
horse, and I on Lupi, a free-and-easy creature, kindly 

loaned me by her owner, Miss J-. Of course, we 

encountered the perennial showers which water the 
Avenue every hour of the day, and equally, of course, 
we were drenched to the skin before we arrived at 
the Pali. 

We passed “ Sweet Home,” the former residence 
of Dr. Judd, and still occupied by members of his 
family, — a domestic paradise, in whose making what 
varied gifts and graces of mind and heart had leagued 
together with “ the stones of the field ” and all the 




AROUND OAHU. 


283 


trees of the forest! Then came the rural burial- 
ground, unspoiled by ostentation, and further up the 
valley the stately mausoleum of the Hawaiian kings. 
The summer residence of the ex-Queen Emma suc¬ 
ceeded, and tempting sites for summer homes, some 
of which have since been occupied by Honolulu mer¬ 
chants. There, too, was the manufactory of artificial 
ice, which Mr. Wilder, our host at Waikiki, was 
managing, with his universal and indomitable energy. 
Midway to the Pali, to my equal surprise and delight, 
we overtook Dr. Wetmore of Hilo, just starting on a 
tour around the island. My involuntary exclamation 
that I too would have gone if I had known his pur¬ 
pose, made the good doctor fairly eloquent in his 
persuasions that I should keep on with him. 

No persuasions would have been needed half an 
hour earlier and a few miles further back. Then I 
could have held a family consultation, packed my 
saddle-bags, dressed for the excursion, and gone with 
a clear understanding and good outfit. Possibly, 
however, I might not have gone at all. Many minds 
raise many obstacles. In a multitude of counsel¬ 
lors there may be wisdom, but there is seldom ac¬ 
tion. The very madness of the thing, setting out 
on a ride of eighty or ninety miles, wet to the skin, 
with no change of clothing, without consultation with 
the home government, and with the positive necessity 
of making the tour within forty-eight hours, in order 


284 


“ ALOHA ! 


to catch the steamer for America, — all this added 
to the charm of the excursion. I was in the mood 
for something venturesome. What if I did not 
catch the steamer ! It would be a blessed accident 
that kept me longer in Hawaii nei. The doctor 

begged. II-badgered and dared me to it. That 

settled the question. I went. He returned to my 
deserted family with the news that when he last saw 
me I was going over the Pali. The Pali, reader, is a 
cliff about a thousand feet in height, a sudden ending 
of the mountain up which you have been riding from 
Honolulu. Down the face of the cliff, a winding foot¬ 
path for men, horses, and cattle has been cut, and 

H-was right in saying that his last sight of me 

was a dissolving view as I went over the Pali. But 
we had had a peaceful and exuberant parting from 
each other at the summit. My wonder and delight 
at the prospect must have equalled his expectations. 
I do not remember any single view in any of the isl¬ 
ands visited by me where the grandeur of mountain 
peaks above unites with the terror of an abyss so pre¬ 
cipitous and profound below, while in the same look 
you get the sea dotted by boulders of basalt, each one 
of which is large enough to be called an island. Be¬ 
tween the ocean and the perpendicular mountain ram¬ 
part, two thousand feet in height and verdant to the 
clouds, lay the cane and rice fields, and spreading 
plains sprinkled with tiny dwellings. A scene so 




AROUND OAHU. 


285 


peaceful seemed doubly sweet in contrast with the 
towering mountains above it and the restless sea be¬ 
yond. In vain we try to realize that we are standing 
on one of nature’s battle-grounds, as well as man’s. 
Over this steep Kamehameha drove Kaiana and his 
followers in the final battle which made him master 
of Oahu. And unknown years before, in a mightier 
conflict of fire, air, and water, all the land below had 
been flung from the height where we stood. But the 
day is far spent. The doctor plans to stop at Mr. 

W-’s sugar plantation to-night. We must be going. 

H-bids me a quizzical farewell, as if till this mo¬ 

ment he had not believed in my enterprising intention, 
and down the narrow pathway we go, leading our 
horses and wondering what people do when they meet 
half-way on this single-file pathway, or — still likelier 
problem and harder to solve — what is done when a 
string of cattle meets you and they or you must take 
the outer edge. 

Happily we make the descent unchallenged by man 
or beast, and mounting again at the foot of the Pali, 
we canter briskly along the good carriage-road which 
extends around the remainder of the island. By 
making arrangements to meet your carriage at the 
foot of the Pali, you can make the circuit of Oahu 
with as much ease as if you were driving in New 

England. The ride to Mr. W-’s in the cool of the 

day, with the perfection of sea-views to the right, and 





286 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


on the left a range of serrated mountains, now cloud- 
capped, now clear, and green with trees, ferns, and 
shrubbery to its very top, was all I had hoped. A 
little store at one of the scattered villages, kept by a 
Chinaman, furnished me with what extra clothing I 
needed for the trip, and thus supplied I had no other 

want which would not be met at Mr. W-’s. We 

arrived there at tea-time, and were received with the 
same abounding welcome which has come to be a 
blessing like the sunshine. I wish I were sure that 
travellers in Hawaii, myself among the number, do 
not take this universal kindness as they take the sun¬ 
shine, feeling no necessity for a suitable return. In 
truth, this costly hospitality to every comer is an un¬ 
fair drain upon the peojde, and must in time be done 
away. More and more, as visitors from abroad in¬ 
crease in number, either boarding-houses must be 
opened at the attractive points, or the residents who 
receive travellers must consent to accept remunera¬ 
tion. Their company and attention will still leave the 
traveller in their debt after all fair dues are paid. We 
found a houseful of company at our Host’s when we 
arrived, but that made no difference to him or his 
amiable wife. They simply gave us rooms in another 
house, and the dining-room seemed capable of endless 

expansion. Mr. W-offered to furnish me with a 

fresh horse and send Lupi back to Honolulu. This 
removed my only disability in making the long tour. 




AROUND OAHU. 


287 


Lupi was not accustomed to such a journey, and I did 
not feel justified in taking the loan of a horse for an 
afternoon and keeping him for two days. Even the 
limitless kindness of Lupi’s mistress would not justify 
that. 

0 

The substitute which Mr. W-provided was a 

strong animal, apparently fresh from free-will pastur¬ 
ing, where his rearing and roving propensities might 
have unhindered play. The circles he described 
w'ould have delighted a geometrician, and the origi¬ 
nal paths he struck out showed the fertility of his 
resources. But these little eccentricities soon yielded 
to the will of the rider and the taming effects of 
travel. Honesty compels me to state that the doc¬ 
tor was the rider, for with characteristic generosity 
he changed horses with me for the day. The ex¬ 
change proved no robbery on my part after the 
first half-hour of travel, and we returned to our 
respective horses on the following day. Meantime 
what is passing, or what are we passing, as we gallop 
along this girdle of Oahu ? Our plan is to stop at 
Punaluu, get a guide or some explicit direction to 
the famous ravine of Kaliuwaa, and having explored 
its wonders ride on to Kahuku, where we expected 
to spend the night. 

How to describe scenery which was changing at 
every turn of the circuitous road, and which was seen 
only in flashes as our galloping horses sped on their 



288 


“ ALOHA!” 


way, I do not know. Not one of the splendid views 
afforded us remains fixed in my memory as a well- 
outlined picture. I only recall sea, islands, fish-ponds, 
rice-fields, cane-ficlds, pastures, cliffs, ravines, beaches, 
cattle, people, horses, here a church and there a 
school, all in ever-varied grouping and picturesque 
beauty. But Kaliuwaa, the great cleft in the moun¬ 
tain-range which faces the sea all along this northern 
side of Oahu, remains a unique and ever-memorable 
delight. A native boy picked up at Punaluu led 
the way, first through a swampy lowland, then up a 
hill-side, and after that the stream which threads the 
ravine was our sufficient clew to its secluded glories. 
So narrow is the gorge that there is hardly room 
for any other traveller than the stream itself. We 
crossed it eight times in making our trip to the heart 
of the Kaliuwaa. 

Ferns, vines, and trees in thick profusion joined 
with the stream in disputing our passage, and the 
loose rocks in the river-bed, all of which had fallen 
from the impending mountain-walls, showed us what 
reception we might expect from that quarter. “Man 
wants but little here below ” we softly hummed to 
the good doctor, whose sense of humor still survived 
the deacon’s orders which he wore so honorably in 
the Hilo church. That we were not alone in appre¬ 
hensions of injury from this source was shown by the 
tokens of native superstition which we met with. 


AROUND OAHU. 


289 


Every little while we came to small bunches of ferns, 
carefully arranged, and having a small stone on them to 
keep them in place. These were offerings made by 
the natives to the god or goddess to whom the place 
had been consecrated by ancient tradition. Thus, in 
spite of Christian teaching, inborn faiths survive in 
these people, and show themselves in these instinctive 
appeals to their supplanted deities. The popular 
story goes that this very gorge was the work of Pele, 
the fire goddess, and here is one of the scenes of her 
numerous conflicts with rival gods and men. Our 
modern statement that the ravine is of volcanic 
origin is simply a scientific rendering of the old poem 
of Pele’s wrath. The impressiveness of the place, 
however, is not dependent upon any theory of its 
origin. No man can stand in this awful break in 
creation, and feel the silent walls on either hand, 
heaven-high above him, without an emotion of won¬ 
der and praise; and when he penetrates to the head 
of the great chasm, and finds there a clear pool, into 
which a lovely fall of water leaps from the smitten 
rock, while all around the most exquisite ferns hang 
' from the crevices of the rocks, or start from the 
moist banks of the perennial stream, he must be less 
than man if no tribute of admiration swells his 
bosom and makes him an unconscious worshipper of 
the God of nature. Something of the weight of this 

too great impressiveness was taken from me by the 

19 


290 


ALOHA ! ” 


troop of native youth which we encountered far up 
the valley. They had been bathing in the pool, and 
were returning to their home full of laughter, cool¬ 
ness, freshness, and song. I wonder if they choose 
the fern for their propitiatory offering to Pele because 
they regard it as a surety of forgiveness and restora¬ 
tion, — a sort of vegetable rainbow, given to men to 
assure them that there shall be no more fire, as 
the rainbow in the clouds proclaimed the end of the 
flood. There is encouragement to this idea in the 
fact that the fern is the earliest form of vegetation 
which grows upon the lava. Hardly do its seams 
grow cool before this herald of another kingdom 
appears and takes possession. Even the black pit of 
Kilauea’s terra infirma is invaded by the intrepid 
explorer. From the little Pellea on the top of 
Hualalai to the great plumes of the Sadleria along 
the sides of the Wailuku in Hawaii, the fern in some 
of its beautiful varieties may be found. Here in 
Kaliuwaa all the conditions of its perfect growth 
unite,—moisture, seclusion, and warmth. Old favor¬ 
ites, already well represented in my collection at 
home, grew here to such surpassing size and finish 
that I picked them as eagerly as if they were wholly 
new varieties, and two or three really new species 
rewarded our search. It is time to proceed on our 
tour of Oahu. But I cannot leave this place 'without 
one resolute glance at its unique wonders, if haply I 


AROUND OAHU. 


291 


may carry with me, as a relief from tamer sights, the 
memory of its wild and awful beauty. Looking sky¬ 
wards, I find myself shut in by mountain walls, five 
or six times as high as Trinity Church spire in New 
York,— one gray and smooth and treeless, the other 
diversified by dwarf kukui trees and ferns. Between 
these walls a brook flows brokenly over a bed of 
splintered basaltic rock. Grasses, mosses, ferns, 
shrubs, trees, all crowd the banks and reach into the 
stream,— a pool at the heart of the ravine which an 
angelic waterfall is for ever troubling. There! that is 
Kaliuwaa. I, who have seen it, see it now and shall 
always see it in memory, unlike any other scene in all 
the world; and yet this description of it would 
answer perfectly well for any one of a hundred 
valleys with a brook running through it. 

The young guide who has showed us the way takes 
his fee as if money were ridiculous to him. He runs 
home to Punaluu, rich as Croesus, on the strength of 
a single shilling in his pocket. We canter on to 
Kahuku, where we plan to spend the night. What 
boots it to tell of black headlands facing silver sands 
and blue waves chasing landwards; or of grass houses 
here and there, picturesque and shabby; or of taro- 
patches, where the essential root of the Hawaiian’s 
daily life is growing in the water under the shade of 
the clustering lily leaves ; or of rice-fields, wet and 
wavy, and cane-fields, wavy and wet; or of broad 


292 


ALOHA ! ” 


pasture-lands, where sheep and cattle graze; of fish¬ 
ponds, where the lazy mullet fatten for the market; 
of islands, that surround the larger island of Oahu, 
as satellites around their parent planet ? The mere 
mention of these things conveys no image to the eye 
that has not seen them, and he that has seen them 
will grow impatient at the poverty of all word- 
pictures of scenes so radiant. 

At Kahuku we find a model ranche. Its present 

proprietor, Mr. R-, entertained us without stint. 

We found him the centre and governor of a little 
kingdom of his own. The ranche is twelve miles 
wide. It pastures three thousand sheep, twelve hun¬ 
dred cattle, two hundred horses, and furnishes em¬ 
ployment and a livelihood to a whole settlement of 
people. Its former owner was an Englishman. He 
must have been a remarkable man, for he succeeded 
in impressing upon his Hawaiian dependants habits 
of industry and economy, which are the very last 
virtues to which the native Hawaiian inclines. Al¬ 
though under a new employer, these people retain in 
a marked degree the qualities drilled into them by 

Mr. M-. At least this is the testimony of Mr. 

R-, the present proprietor of the ranche. As we 

sat in his well-appointed dining-room, or on the open 
veranda, and conversed together of Hawaiian lands 
and people, I could not but feel that the welfare of 
the country now, as earlier in its history, depended 








AROUND OAHU. 


293 


upon the honesty and intelligence of its accepted for¬ 
eign leaders. 

It is too much to expect of a people only two gen¬ 
erations removed from barbarism, that they should 
be equal to self-direction and self-control in the 
difficult paths of modern civilization. A curious evi¬ 
dence of the covert heathenism which only time and 
generations of culture can wholly root out, lay before 
us. In the grounds adjoining the house there were 
two odd images of stone,—the one an effigy apparently 
of some old English admiral, rudely sculptured; the 
other, a natural similitude of something semi-human, 
semi-brutal,—one of those accidental statues which are 
sometimes found in the fields or on the shore. Both 
of these images had been worshipped as idols in times 
past, and in front of the fish-god — as the ruder of 
the two was called — were some shells which the 
natives had recently brought as offerings. Many of 
them still believe the superstitions of their ancestors, 
or at least retain enough of the heathen faith to seek 
to propitiate their ancient divinities. 

I will not venture to say that his enlightened Ma¬ 
jesty the King shares in these superstitions. On the 
contrary, he is credited with being remarkably eman¬ 
cipated from supernatural conceptions of all kinds; 
but he knows his people too well to venture too far 
upon their idolatrous sensibilities. On a visit to this 
ranche, he made a target of one of these idols, — the 


294 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


English dummy which was little heeded or revered by 
anybody ; but the king was careful not to fire at the 
fish-god, for whom there still remains a popular under¬ 
lying reverence. We slept that night in a dormitory 
proper, — a house by itself, devoted solely to sleep. 
This is the third time I have found my island hosts in 
Oahu provided with “ many mansions,” instead of the 
one overgrown establishment of other lands. It is 
vastly conducive to sleep and rest to be thus separated 
at night from household collisions and the hazards of 
a too early awakening. There was no fear, however, 
for us that we should awake too early. Our plan 
was to start at daybreak and get to Waialua in time 
for breakfast with the E-s. 

The twelve-miles’ ride would serve to whet our 
appetites, and the day would not prove too long to 
take us over the forty miles which still separated us 
from Honolulu. Every thing went as we had planned, 
excepting the arrival at Waialua by breakfast-time, 
and Waimea beach is to blame for that. It was not 
the sea-views, fine as they were, which detained us, 
but the quantity of delicate and beautifully tinted 
shells with which the beach was sprinkled. The doc¬ 
tor, who is a born naturalist, as enthusiastic and art¬ 
less in his pursuit of nature as a child, cares as little 
for the lapse of time so happily employed as I do, and 
together we stroll across the beach, leading our horses 
with one hand and picking shells with the other. At 



AROUND OAHU. 


295 


Waialua, where we arrive in time for a late breakfast, 
kindly served by the most attentive of hostesses and 
her obliging son, we find a pretty settlement near a 
lively stream, with pasture and corn-fields around it, 
and a pleasant, balmy air. But one misses there the 
unique beauty of Waikiki and the imposing grandeur 
of Northern Oahu. Nevertheless, this must be a de¬ 
lightful resort for rest or renewal. 

And now for our last stretch of thirty miles to 
Honolulu. We find it the least interesting part of 
the tour. Better the restraint of the Higher Pow¬ 
ers than the freedom of our own lower desires. 
Yesterday we rode between the high mountains 
and the deep sea, and felt ourselves compelled to 
go the narrow way between them. But to-day we 
can gallop freely in the path or out of it, over undu¬ 
lating pastures, only now and then straightened by a 
narrow ravine. The views of the mountains were all 
distant. They seemed retreating from us, never im¬ 
pending. The roar of ocean, too, was subdued by 
distance into a harmless murmur, and we were left 
to chat and canter at our leisure all the way home. 
By this time our horses began to show the natural 
weariness of the flesh, and, uninspired by the novelty 
of the scenery or the enthusiasm of their riders, were 
wholly dependent on the spur of necessity to keep 
them to their work. 

It seems to me this tour would culminate better if 


296 


“ ALOHA ! ” 


the traveller should reverse the journey and take the 
environs of Honolulu, with the public buildings, the 
Insane Asylum, the Reform School, and the Prison, 
first. The bright coral road over which you leave the 
city; the distant Waimea hills; the retreating valleys on 
your right; the curious, if not beautiful, salt lake; the 
famous Pearl River harbor, which has figured at a 
great price in former negotiations with the “ States ; ” 
the indolent gangs of prisoners working out their easy 
penitence upon the public road ; Ewa, the undisco ver- 
able ; and all the ups and downs of the road to Waia- 
lua, — these might have their interest to a traveller 
fresh upon the pleasure-path. But as the sequel to a 
story beginning with the Pali and leading up to Kilii- 
w^ao, they are simply dull. Add a jaded horse and 
somewhat tired body of your own to the comparative 
tameness of the scenery, and you will share in the re¬ 
lief with which we sighted the familiar towers and 
groves of Honolulu, and urged our steeds to the 
haven of their rest and ours. 

At three o’clock we were at home again in our 
friend’s refreshing house in Nuuanu Avenue, just 
forty-eight hours after setting out with him for an 
afternoon’s ride to the Pali. Is there any weariness 
or ill which would not be cured in such a homelike, 
hospitable mansion ? A dip in its perennial bathtub, 
a brief recline on its breezy veranda, a dinner of Ah 
Me’s best cooking and Ah Well’s best serving, and 


rv> fn/ -r 
UL, j / 


AROUND OAHU. 


29 7 


around and about and above all, the spice and sweet¬ 
ness of my host’s and hostess’s conversation and care, 
so renewed me, that I found myself making farewell 
calls that evening with unabated strength and inter¬ 
est. Yes, they were farewell calls, although I secretly 
hoped that some pitying angel would intervene to 
prevent our departure on the morrow. The Australian 
steamer had not yet arrived. Perhaps she would not 
come, or perhaps she would be delayed, or perhaps 
we might be taken comfortably sick, or— Alas, 
while we were calculating these delusive chances, and 

admiring Miss B-’s magnificent collection of ferns, 

the unwelcome news of the arrival of the “Zealandia ” 
was brought to us. Our fate was sealed. We must 
leave on the morrow. But with the dawn of the 
morrow one gleam of fresh hope visited us. The 
steamer was said to be crowded with Australian pas¬ 
sengers going to England by way of America, intend¬ 
ing to visit the Centennial Exhibition on the way. 
All the first-class state-rooms were taken. We went 
early to the steamer and found the rumor true. But 
influence goes a long way on sea as on land. A sort 
of family state-room is begged, borrowed, bought, or 
stolen, into which my wife and boy are smuggled, to¬ 
gether with the three ladies whose company at Hilo 
had been such a delight to us. I, meantime, am 
assigned a berth in a distant state-room, in which two 
young English travellers are already domesticated. I 



298 


“ALOHA ! ” 


am bound to say that they took the intrusion with 
commendable politeness, and before our voyage was 
over I was newly impressed with what I have ex¬ 
perienced repeatedly before, that Englishmen make 
the best of fellow-travellers. 

I find them just sociable enough, neither intrusive 
nor repellent; and assuredly their conversation, if they 
have been commonly well-educated, is more replete 
with exact information and sensible inquiry than that 
of most travellers. All the way home I found myself 
renewedly glad of my English extraction, as I made 
the acquaintance of one and another gentleman from 
England or her colonies. And there was abundant 
opportunity for comparison Avith other nationalities. 
Every nation under the sun was represented in that 
ship’s company. Travelling makes strange bedfellows. 
A priest of the Greek Church roomed with Rev. Mr. 
Bishop of the Hawaiian mission ; a wealthy Jew 
was neighbor to a rigid Romanist. The smiling 
Chinaman, Ah Su, gave up his airy room on deck to 

his Amcrico-Hawaiian friends, the W-s. Every 

church, every nation, every profession, seemed ready 
with its characteristic member, and the “ Zealandia ” 
sailing across the broad Pacific seemed a world within 
a world, or sort of modern ark, from which the tribes 
of man, if not of other animals, might be recruited, 
although the whole world beside should be engulfed. 

It is needless to say we reached our home in safety. 



AROUND OAHU. 


299 


How else could the story of our Hawaiian visit have 
ever been written ? Across half a world of land and 
sea, and after three years of absence which works no 
change in our regard except to give it added tender¬ 
ness, we send this greeting to Hawaii, — the beauti¬ 
ful, the friendly,— heedless although the whole world 
should hear our salutation and smile at its vociferous 
love : “ Aloha, Hawaii! Aloha nui! ” * 


University Press: Jolin Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 




















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